The Destination
by Giwu
Summary: How did Grissom and Sara get back together? This is a sequel to The Journey of 1000 Miles, but it can stand alone. Rating will change to M with Chapter 7.
1. Chapter 1

June 2005

She hadn't slept well for the last two weeks. Vegas was sweltering and every morning when she laid down to go to sleep she turned the temperature in her apartment down as low as she could stand it. She wasn't sure why she bothered, it didn't really matter, three hours later she would awaken with her clothes and sheets drenched in sweat and her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her temple. She would change her pajamas (which was just a t-shirt and girlie boxers) or strip down to nothing and then change the sheets. She knew she would be mortified when the electric bill came for the month and she had already broken down last week and bought a third set of sheets, so she could throw the two sets of sweat soaked ones in the washing machine before she left for work each night.

Sara chided herself for dwelling even for a moment of the expense of a bitterly cold house and new sheets. It was ridiculously petty for her to even think about it after all that Nick had been through. She knew the horrors that haunted her sleep had to do both with her worries of what would have happened if they hadn't found him and what if it had been her that was buried alive. She was certain she would have taken her own life hours before he actually had broken down and raised the pistol to his head. She wondered what she would have done not knowing her coworkers could actually see her in agony. Again she reminded her overactive mind that Nick was safe now and he was in Texas with his family on medical leave. Now if she could just forget about how weak she would have been in the same situation.

It was noon when she awoke this time. That meant she had been asleep for almost three hours. She stripped the bed and hopped in the shower to rinse off and calm herself. After the shower, she shivered in the cold room before making the bed quickly and crawling in naked. She refused to get out of bed until at least 4:00 PM. She reached for her book, which was now some fluffy fictional best-seller rather than her usual forensic journal. Mentally she ran through a checklist of what she could do next to combat the insomnia. Aroma therapy, white noise machine, sleeping pills, working longer hours, going to the gym. This had to stop soon before her performance started to slip at work.

Her book had slid from her hands and she had just dozed off when the phone rang, jolting her straight up in momentary panic and disorientation. She shook her head and reached for the phone.

"Hello," she croaked. There was silence. "Is someone there?"

"Shashhara," a voice said, slurring badly.

"Who is this?" she asked.

There was a long pause. Then she heard a mix of words that she could only interpret as, "ish ta gol".

She was getting frustrated. Whoever it was had probably misdialed and she made a vow to call the phone company later and get caller ID on her home phone. "I think you have the wrong fucking number," she said in exasperation and slammed the receiver back in the cradle.

Ten minutes later the phone rang again and she angrily answered, "WHAT!"

"Sh-ara, doon t hang up thish time."

"Who is this?" she sighed.

"Gil."

She was wide awake. He sounded totally drunk. Incapacitated drunk.

"Grissom? Where are you?" she asked.

"I'm (hic) on your (hic) landing," he said.

"My landing?" she repeated dumbly.

"Yessh, pretty shure, that is where I am," he answered.

Sara scrambled for clothes and started to tug on some panties and shorts then grabbed a baggy shirt. "Okay, hold on, I'll be right there," she said.

She opened the door to find him sitting on the landing next to her door with his back against the wall and his legs straight out in front of him. Between his legs he had a bottle of tequila and in one hand he was staring at his cell phone while the other hand held a bottle of Corona. She observed three empty bottles scattered across the floor. She put her keys in her pocket and sat down next to him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"The bitchy bartender cut me off and kicked me out of the bar, so I deschided this was a good spot to keep drinking," he answered.

"How long have you been here?" she asked. She was thankful her neighbor worked the day shift otherwise the police would have been called. She could just see LVPD arriving to arrest Grissom for public intoxication. He didn't have a lot of friends on first shift. Departmental courtesy may have been expected, but the rumor mill would have been flooded with details of the incident.

He shrugged in answer. She saw a receipt sticking out of the carton of beer. He bought the beer and tequila from a store a couple of blocks from her place 45 minutes ago. He had probably been sitting there for 35 minutes.

"You drove her after being shut off at a bar in Vegas? What were you thinking?" she asked him in shock. She wondered if he had been obnoxious or abusive. She couldn't imagine he would get drunk enough in a public place to draw attention to the fact that he was incapacitated.

"I am in complete control of faticuties…my faclulties…my…I was just fine to drive," he said triumphantly.

"Uh-huh, sure you were," she said, not the least bit convinced.

"I am," he protested. "Do you want me to say the alphabet backwards? Z…Y…X…V…Sara, if I were in charge of the alphabet u and i would not be so far apart," he finished seriously.

"Oh, for the love of Christ!" Sara exploded. "Have you been getting drunk at a Hallmark store? Give me that!" she lunged for the bottle of tequila and he moved it out of her reach.

"No…it's mine," he said. She almost thought he sounded petulant. Was this some sort of strange-ass dream and if so when the hell would she wake up from it?

"For God's sake…you could at least share it," she said.

"Not until you admit that I am not drunk," he taunted.

Sara looked him squarely in the eye. "You forgot 'W' in case you missed that," she said.

"Oh." He handed her the bottle. "Touché."

She took a very long swig of the tequila and welcomed the burning sensation in her throat and chest.

"Seriously Grissom…why are you here?" she asked after a few more swallows.

He looked away from her and appeared to stare at absolutely nothing for a few moments. He finished the rest of his beer and studied the ceiling as he answered her.

"Sara? What happened to us?" he asked softly.

She had only been speechless a few times in her adult life and this was now one of them. She looked at him incredulously

"Us?" she said. "Grissom, in case you missed it, there hasn't been an 'us' for many, many years. Fourteen years to be exact."

"Why is that?" he asked.

"You know what? I am so not having this conversation on my landing," she said. She scrambled to her feet while still holding the bottle of tequila. "Are you able to stand up and come inside my apartment?"

A/N: Next chapter to be posted Tuesday, May 8th.


	2. Chapter 2

_**The Destination Chapter Two**_  
**Title:** The Destination  
**Author:** Giwu  
**Rating:** M  
**Pairing:** GSR  
**Summary:** How did Sara and Grissom get back together?  
**Spoilers: **This is a continuation of my story, The Journey of 1000 Miles. You don't have to read that one prior to reading this one. Series spoilers...up to Season 7.  
**Author's Notes: ** GSR is canon...some of my details may not be. Title subject to change.  
**Disclaimer: **You-all do know I don't own them, right?

Chapter Two

Getting Grissom into her apartment was easier said than done. He was pretty tipsy and unsteady on his feet. Sara was not the least bit inclined to help him in any way that would result with physical contact between them. She carried the bottle of tequila and remaining beers inside and set them on the coffee table in front of her couch. Grissom pinballed and careened into the room before he was able to plop down unceremoniously on the couch. Sara went back to the landing and picked up the empty beer bottles he had scattered. She wrinkled her nose at the smell permeating the entryway and grabbed an air freshener from her living room and set it outside her door in hopes that would get rid of the odor of beer and sweat before too much time had past or her neighbors came home.

She sat down carefully on the couch next to Grissom, but with ample distance between them. She opened a bottle of beer and waited for him to start talking again. Part of her was hoping he would just pass out and she could cover him with a blanket and go back to bed. Maybe this was all a bad dream she thought again. This couldn't be real, could it? She desperately wished she could wake up, since she could foresee no happy ending to this scenario.

He looked at her steadily. "So, what happened to us?" he asked again. He didn't slur his words as much. She wasn't fooled, he may be speaking clearly, but he still was firing on all pistons.

"Griss, do you really think we should have this conversation now? I mean, you are severely intoxicated," she said.

"You used to call me Gil," he said. "Sometimes right before I fall asleep, my mind will flash to San Francisco and I can remember you moaning my name over and over while we were making love together in that little apartment you had close to the campus. I remember everything…how you looked, how you smelled, how it felt to be buried inside you…I think about it and my body aches."

"See, this is what I mean," she said. "If you were stone cold sober, you wouldn't mention the intimate parts of our past like that. You're going to regret this in the morning. That is, if you remember it at all. Either way, in the end, you will make me suffer for your lapse."

"You're probably right," he agreed amiably. "But I needed a little bit of liquid courage before I could come here. I thought about calling you on the phone, but one of the bartenders said, 'friends don't let friends drink and dial'. Sara, I don't always like who I am now and I don't like the way things are between us today. What I can't figure out is what happened to us and how did we get here?"

She sighed audibly. "I don't know if I have all the answers and as much as I would like to remain objective and discuss this with you, I am going to be biased."

"I could understand that," he said.

It was now her turn to stare off into nothing. "I don't know what happened exactly. You came to Vegas, I went to Boston. We emailed, we IMd, we called when we could. It was a different time then, no cell phones and no unlimited long distance calling," she said. "We were in different time zones and had different schedules. Both of us were under a lot of pressure"

He nodded. "I remember all that," he said.

"But then…" she trailed off, uncertain how to phrase her next thought. "We tried three times to meet halfway in Chicago and all three times you cancelled. The third time you cancelled at the last minute and I was stuck with a nonrefundable ticket. From that point on, I never initiated for us to meet halfway again and you never suggested it. Maybe you thought I was pulling away and probably in a way I was."

He closed his eyes and memories flooded his mind. He remembered twice he had cancelled because of complicated cases and a demanding boss, but the third and final time…he shook his head as the guilt washed over him in waves. He had been packed and minutes from leaving for the airport. It hit him at the moment he looked at his suitcase that if he met her in Chicago, he would never want to come back to Vegas, he would never want to leave her again. She would invade his consciousness and his work would suffer for it. HE would suffer for it. He convinced himself he couldn't screw up her life and the bright future she had, but in truth, he didn't want his path compromised when there was no guarantee they would work out in the long run.

"I remember how much I grew to hate America Online," she continued absently. I don't know what I hated more…hearing those three words, "You've….got…. mail" and then waiting those incredibly long ten seconds or so until it would show who the mail was from-or not hearing the words at all. I would spend all my time at home connected to the Internet waiting for you to come online. I would rush home from class, or work or the library to sign online. Eventually, when we went a month without IMing, I switched internet providers so I never had to hear those words again. I think that was when I gave up on us the first time."

"I don't think I ever gave up on us," he said softly. "I look at the women I dated after you and all of them reminded me of you somehow. "Charlotte was smart and funny. Teri. Well, just something about her mannerisms touched some subconscious memory in me. Heather…"

"Damn, it Grissom, STOP," she yelled the last word. "Do you think I am somehow invincible? Do you think I can sit here while you cheerfully compare all the women you've dated in the last 14 years to me? I don't have nerves of steel. When you let me go, I had the wind knocked out of me and I was damaged by the fall. It took me a long time to get over the rejection and start to live again. Maybe in someway, I never did really live again."

"There IS something inside of you that is strong and beautiful, but I wasn't trying to torment you with my comparisons," he said. "Back when we first met, I didn't want to let go of you. I almost turned around in San Francisco after I was only a couple of blocks away. I let myself open up and unfold emotionally with you for the first time in my life…maybe the only time in my life. I have often wondered if I had known how much it would hurt, would I have still wanted to be with you?"

"How do you usually answer that?" she asked.

"I tell myself that I would have risked it because there's no way I want to think that I would have missed…knowing you," he said.

A silence settled over them. All of the beers were finished and the tequila bottled had been drained to its last drop. Sara was feeling overwhelmed by all the emotions she was feeling at the same time and at the rush of memories. It wasn't fair; she had worked so hard to get to this point where he couldn't hurt her with his social inadequacies or his undiplomatic rejections. She didn't know if she could protect herself from the inevitable.

"I should go," Grissom stood and swayed back and forth for a few seconds before sinking onto the couch again.

"You aren't going to drive in this shape," Sara said. "Don't get all alpha male on me and make me take your keys from you."

He nodded in agreement. "I think you're right," he said.

She sighed. "Come on, you can sleep it off in my bed for a few hours. I was getting ready to do some research on a new fingerprint powder, anyway," she lied smoothly.

He protested weakly, but followed as she led the way to the bedroom. He sank onto the bed and his eyes closed immediately. Sara grabbed a spare blanket and pillow from the closet. As she passed by the bed he grabbed her wrist and she froze.

"Sara," his voice was soft, warm and oh-so-seductive. "Stay with me, please," he said.

A/N: Okay, I promise not to do this on a regular basis, but I have never written a song fic, so this chapter was my homage to that genre…

Invincible by Christian Bautista

I don't have nerves of steel  
I have a heart that feels  
I may have cried a million tears but I won't drown  
I let myself unfold  
Gave you my hand to hold  
You took me beyond where I could see  
And then you let go of me

I was damaged by the fall  
Got the wind knocked out of me  
To be standing here at all  
I must be invincible  
I thought that I would break

But now I have come to see

Something strong and beautiful

Inside of me

I must be invincible

I don't have x-ray eyes  
Don't have a heart so wise  
How could I have known you'd let me down  
If I have known that then  
If my eyes were wide open  
I still believe I would've risked it  
There's no way I would've missed it

I was damaged by the fall  
Got the wind knocked out of me  
To be standing here at all  
I must be invincible  
I thought that I would break

But now I have come to see

Something strong and beautiful

Inside of me

I must be invincible

Ah...it's a blessing and a curse  
Ah...but you find out just what you're worth

I was damaged by the fall  
Got the wind knocked out of me  
To be standing here at all  
I must be invincible  
I thought that I would break

But now I have come to see

Something strong and beautiful

Inside of me

I must be invincible

I must be invincible

A/N: Next chapter will be posted Thursday before CSI (Central Time Zone) earlier if I doesn't stop raining and I am stuck indoors!


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** The Destination  
**Author:** Giwu  
**Rating:** T, but will change to M with later chapters  
**Pairing:** GSR  
**Summary:** How did Sara and Grissom get back together?  
**Spoilers: **This is a continuation of my story, The Journey of 1000 Miles. You don't have to read that one prior to reading this one. Series spoilers...up to Season 7.  
**Author's Notes: **GSR is canon...some of my details may not be.  
**Disclaimer: **You-all do know I don't own them, right?

Chapter Three

Gil woke up with his head pounding and his mouth feeling like it was full of cotton. What was worse than the dryness of cotton sensation was that it tasted like a rat had crawled in his mouth and died a slow death. He stumbled from the bed and into the bathroom. He leaned his head against the wall over the toilet as he urinated. He had flashes of the night/day before and knew that alcohol had been involved. The phone call from Nick in Texas had been welcome and it was reassuring to know Nick was healing, but it had sent him on a downward spiral that only his friend Jose seemed to understand. He wondered if he had also had conversations with his buddies Jim and Jack, because there was no way he could feel this lousy and not have mixed his booze. He should have called Brass to go out with him rather than drink alone. But, part of him knew he had wanted to be alone with his thoughts.

His first inkling that everything was not as it should be was the subtle invasion of an unidentifiable smell. It was roses. No, it was lilacs. Why on earth would his bathroom smell like lilacs? With his head still leaning against the wall, he cautiously opened one eye. Floral wallpaper started back at him.

He was not in his apartment.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, mentally taking stock of his current situation.

He was not in his own apartment.

He woke up in someone else's bed.

He was naked.

This was going to be bad. He wondered how much worse it was going to get.

He opened his eyes and pushed away from the wall. He looked down in horror.

He was not in his apartment, which meant he was not in his bathroom.

This made perfect sense, in a logical, perverse world.

He stared at the fluffy pink toilet cover.

That he had just pissed at least a gallon of urine on and thoroughly saturated it.

He broke out in a cold sweat and rubbed his eyes. When he opened them again, the toilet seat cover was still there and a smell of urine was now overpowering the previous delicate scent of lilacs.

'God, Gil you are a classy guy to have around,' he thought to himself.

He quietly locked the bathroom door. Just as softly he opened the medicine cabinet. He was a trained CSI, he was trained to be observant (obviously not first thing in the morning after a heavy night of drinking), maybe there would be a couple bottles of prescription medicine and he could figure out where he was…or he who had gone home with. That thought made him gulp.

The medicine cabinet yielded a bunch of over-the-counter medications, but nothing with a pharmacy label on it. Gil took three Tylenols and some Pepto-bismol. He rinsed his mouth with some of the mouthwash.

He looked back at the toilet and shuddered. He could just leave the soggy, smelly mess and escape from this stranger's apartment. He could wrap it in the trash can liner and try to smuggle it out with him when he left. He had no clue who he would encounter when he left the bathroom, but really couldn't think of how he would begin to explain why he was stealing the cover.

He closed his eyes again and tried to remember what had happened the night before. It had only taken a few shots before he was pretty depressed. He knew he had been thinking about his life and about Sara. Both of those subjects always depressed him. Sure, he was a successful CSI and well-known entomologist, but bugs were not exactly emotionally rewarding. Intellectually fascinating, but they did not soothe his heart or his libido. Had he picked up some woman in the bar? God, had they used protection? Had he given her his real name? Where was his car? Hell, where were his pants?

He opened the closet in the bathroom and was relieved to see there were towels in it. He turned on the shower and removed the toilet seat cover. He adjusted the water temperature to as cold as he could take it and moved under the spray of water. He knew he was still technically drunk and the only real cure for a hangover was time. But, the icy shower was helping to clear his head.

He reached for the soap and was pleasantly surprised to find that it was unscented. He lathered up the wet blob of pink cloth first and let it hang on the faucet while he washed himself. He instinctively gripped his cock in his normal massaging fashion that he used on a regular basis. It was rare that he did not masturbate before going into work. It took the edge off his tension and it was, generally speaking, his only form of release. Mentally, he was trying to convince himself that he had not had mindless sex with some mystery woman. He focused on the facts…if he had actually had sex just a few hours ago why would he already be thinking of taking care of himself? "Because you're a man, jackass," said the imaginary voice in his head. His erection seemed to be just as persistent as it was most afternoons when he woke up to begin his day. He remembered where he was (or more specifically, where he was not) and his ardor immediately cooled. He rinsed the toilet seat cover under the water and removed all traces of soap. He finished his shower and squeezed as much water as he could from the cover and left it on the shower head. That was the best he could do…but he probably would never tell another living soul about it. He didn't think it would ever be a source of humor for him.

He dried himself and hung the towel over the shower door. He combed his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath before unlocking the bathroom door and stealthily moving back into the bedroom. He looked around for any overt clues as to the regular occupant of the room and could come up with very few if any. There was a smutty romance novel on the bedside table. There were no pictures or personal items in plain sight. His attention shifted as he spotted his Dockers, shirt, socks and shoes on the floor next to the bed. He found his boxers in the bed under the sheets and tried not to wince at what that implied.

He got dressed and was relieved to find his cell phone hooked to his belt and both his car keys and watch in his pants pocket. A quick check of messages showed he had a text from Catherine. Sara had called out sick, but he didn't need to come in, she was having one of the people from second shift work a double to cover it. She just thought he should know in case he wanted to check on her. Everyone was suffering from stress and all of them were at risk for a meltdown. As soon as Nicky came back from medical leave, he, Warrick and Catherine would be returning to third shift. Ecklie hadn't put up much of a fight. Catherine would still be considered management and she was more than happy to handle the paperwork and political aspect of the job. These were the two areas Gil conveniently avoided.

He moved through the small hallway of the apartment and found the living room and the front door. A figure was breathing deeply and evenly on the couch and he could see a pair of manicured feet, but the head and face were covered by a thin blanket. Gil could see that the sun was low in the sky as it shown in through the window and lit up the room. When he looked at his watch he was surprised to find it was 830 PM.

He slid the chain lock off on the door and had just opened it when he heard a quiet cough. He turned back to the couch and the faceless woman. Why couldn't he have made his exit (translation: escape) without waking her? Was he on the fuck-up fairy's shit list or something?

"Were you planning to say, 'goodbye' or just sneak away without a word?" a hoarse voice asked from under the blanket.

A/N: There will be two more chapters before the season finale next Thursday. I give up trying to predict my schedule for the next few days.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** The Destination  
**Author:** Giwu  
**Rating:** M  
**Pairing:** GSR  
**Summary:** How did Sara and Grissom get back together?  
**Spoilers: **This is a continuation of my story, The Journey of 1000 Miles. You don't have to read that one prior to reading this one. Series spoilers...up to Season 7.  
**Author's Notes: ** GSR is canon...some of my details may not be.  
**Disclaimer: **You-all do know I don't own them, right?

Chapter Four

Gil stood frozen at the door, remembering when he was a kid and his mother had accidentally hit a deer late at night while they were driving home from a movie. He now knew the feeling of being unable to move and being blinded by headlights even when there was an impending collision. Every fiber of his body wanted to blurt out something trite and dash out the door. But that just opened another can of worms as he was still hoping he would be able to find his car. He swallowed and opted for a light comment.

"I figured since I kicked you out of your own bed at some point, I wouldn't add insult to injury and wake you," he said in what he could only hope was a jovial tone.

The blanket rustled and slid off the mystery woman. Sara sat up, stretched and yawned pointedly. "It was a pretty late night for both of us," she said.

Gil felt like he had been kicked in the balls. His mind was spinning and he wanted to throw up-and it had nothing to do with the hangover. _Sara. It was Sara. Oh, shit…..SARA! I spent the night with Sara. Jesus Christ, when I want to screw up my life, I do it all the way. Of course, nothing half-assed for me. What the hell do I do now? Okay, stay calm, keep a poker face, and don't let her see how horrified you are. Oh, yeah, never mind being caught in headlights, I am pretty sure getting run over by a car would be less painful than they conversation I am about to have with her. Breathe, just breathe. Maybe you didn't sleep with her. Uh-huh and maybe the moon really is made of green cheese. Anything is possible in Gil's fantasy land. Welcome aboard; come on in, the water's fine, current population: one._

He nodded and inexplicably remembered something Brass had told him years ago the first time he witnessed an interrogation shortly after arriving in Vegas as a new CSI. Possibly, it might be the only thing that will keep him from tossing his cookies all over her carpet in the next 30 seconds.

"The key is to get the suspect talking. The guilty ones can shut up-even when it is their own ass on the line," said Brass. "Let them do all the talking and you will eventually get the information you want. The less you say, the more they will sing."

He nodded again and cleared his throat, stalling for time. "Catherine left me a text message that you called out sick and I was going to stop by the lab on my way home and see if they needed anything," he said.

"I wasn't sure how you would be feeling or how long you were going to sleep. I didn't want you to wake up alone," she said.

"Thank you. I appreciate that. It was a bit confusing to wake up in a different place," he said. "Oh…I…uh…dropped your toilet seat cover in the shower when I was getting out. Sorry about that." He hoped he was not giving any nonverbal cues that he was lying to her.

She looked slightly perplexed as she tried to figure out how he had accomplished that feat. Eventually she shook her head. "No problem. If you're up for it, I could make us some breakfast," she said.

Grissom's stomach gave a lurch of protest at the mention of food. He visibly winced and Sara couldn't hold back a chuckle.

"I think the look on your face speaks louder than words," she said teasing him.

He gave her a wan smile and noticed the disappointment in her eyes. He hated to be the one who put that look on her face and he always seemed to do it. "I was thinking a raincheck might be a good idea. Would you like to meet about 600 PM tonight…well tomorrow night before shift at the dinner? It will my treat since you had to put up with me," he said.

She hesitated. "Please, Sara," he said softly.

I'll see you at the diner at six," she said as she stood up and walked over to him.

He heard her lock the door behind him and his next worry was unnecessary. There was his car-parked crookedly in two spaces, but at least it was in her parking lot. He gave an audible sigh of relief.

The drive home was a quiet one for Gil. He was struggling to remember what had happened in the last few hours. It came to him in flashes. He remembered leaving work. He remembered going to the bar…and getting thrown out of the bar. It was a blur how he arrived at Sara's apartment, but he was pretty sure he had stopped for more to drink before he got there. Bits and pieces of the conversation they had had zoomed through his mind. He knew why he had gone there. What was torturing him now was he could not remember if they had made love. There was no possible way he could ask her.

He wandered around his townhome for most of the night just catching up on all the mundane tasks he had let go for so long. We he did lie down to catch a few hours of sleep, he was restless. He played the scene repeatedly in his head. After waking up half a dozen times he decided to give in and start his day.

He was fifteen minutes early for supper and did not see her car in the parking lot. _Of course not, why would she be 15 minutes early? Only someone as anxious as you would be that lame…"_ He barely finished her thought when her Mustang pulled in next to his car. _Oh. Maybe she is as nervous as I am. _He took a deep breath and climbed out of the car.

She smiled at him and much to his chagrin he was tongue-tied. He had mentally practiced what he was going to say and now he was flooded with panic as he couldn't form the words. He had a slight reprieve as they took their seats and ordered. Finally he took a deep breath.

"Sara, I came to your place last night because I realized with everything that has happened, I am not happy with where you and I are," he said.

"That much was pretty obvious," she answered, her face neutral.

_Okay, part one went well. _Ecklie and the sheriff have instructed me that all of us will take a minimum of seven days vacation before Nick returns from Texas and personnel are shuffled around," he said. "Catherine will be gone for ten days, then Warrick and Greg will take their turn."

Sara didn't see there was any connection between his first and second statement. She was dreading seven long days of no work. She was slightly surprised that Greg was ahead of her on Grissom's list, but maybe during the next couple of weeks she could somehow convince Ecklie she didn't need a vacation. Maybe she could find a conference or seminar to attend.

"Griss, I really don't need the time off, I would tell you if I did," she said.

I don't think I need the time off either, but this is mandatory," he said. Plus, I have something important to ask you. His heart was beating very fast now.

"What's that?" she asked.

He plunged forward to the point of no return. "Sara, would you like to go to San Francisco with me for ten days?"

A/N: I know I said I would write two more chapters before the season finale, but it worked better as one chapter. No, I will never answer the question whether they did or didn't when Grissom was drunk. Yes, I do know. heh heh


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Sara was stunned speechless and that didn't happen to her very often. Come to think of it, she couldn't remember the last time it had happened. People very rarely surprised her. For a few moments all she could do was sit there and blink stupidly at Gil. She was seriously starting to wonder if she was losing her mind or in a very deep sleep and having this surreal dream. First he showed up drunk on her doorstep, then he asked her to sleep with him and now he wants to go on a forced vacation with her. When the many thoughts stopped swirling in her brain, she realized he was patiently waiting for her answer.

She shook her head and looked at him closely. She wondered how many people were actually able to observe him and know what he was truly thinking. He was trying to appear nonchalant, but she could see the anxiety creeping across his features the longer she took to respond to his question.

"Griss, I just don't think that is a good idea," she said.

Gil had told himself she probably wouldn't accept, but now, faced with the very real possibility of not being able to fix the rift that had come between them was unsettling. It had taken him too long to figure out what he felt for her and then to express his interest.

He cleared his throat. "Sara, I know I have treated you poorly. I know I led you on to believe there could be something more between us when I asked you to stay in Vegas. I want to make things right between us," he said.

"I know your conscience is bothering you, not just for the past few years, but for last night as well. That just isn't the motivation I am looking for to go away with you for ten days," she said without malice.

"Sara, what is it that you want me to say?" he asked.

"I have no interest in being a ten-day fling, with you or anyone else," she responded.

Gil flashed back to when they had first met in San Francisco. He had been hesitant to have a summer romance with her, since he knew it could possibly destroy them both when it was time to leave. Back then, she had found the notion of a carefully defined time line comforting. It was never more obvious than right now that the Sara he knew in her early 20's was not the same woman he knew in her mid 30's.

"I don't have all the answers of what would happen after the ten day vacation," he said. "Coming back to Vegas will have unique challenges. Sara, I'm not asking for just ten days, I want us to be more than that. I just thought if we were able to get away together, we might be able to determine if we wanted to be more than what we are now."

_A year ago she would have leapt at the chance for this, why was she hesitating now? Too much had happened and maybe she had given up on some level of ever finding someone special. _She shook her head again. "I just don't know if I have it in me to try something more with you and be rejected by you again," she said sadly.

"You don't have to make a decision right now, or even today," he said. "I would rather drive than fly, so it isn't like there are plane reservations to make. All I'm asking is that you think about rather than refuse immediately."

"That seems to be a better option for me right now," she said. "I really would like some time to think about it. I'm not trying to be coy or keep you in suspense unnecessarily."

"I know that, and I'll respect whatever choice you make," he said.

**GSRGSRGSRGSRGSRGSRGSRGSRGSRGSRGSRGSRGSRGSRGSRGSRGSRGSR**

_Human behavior was a fascinating thing. _Sara thought a couple of hours later. She had never been a big psychology buff, probably because she never wanted to delve into the traumas from her childhood.

The dynamic amongst her co-workers had changed since Nick's abduction. For the most part, everyone was friendly and cordial to each other before, but there had been unspoken parameters that carefully defined behavior.

The changes were subtle, but as she looked at the two other people in the breakroom, she wondered if they could see them on a conscious level or not.

Prior to Nick, normally when there was more than one person in the breakroom, they would physically stay away from each other. She had arrived first and had sat on the couch with some files. Soon Greg came in to get a cup of coffee and he sat at the other end of the couch instead of over by the television. Greg had been quieter and Sara missed him bouncing all over the place. Warrick appeared next and turned a chair around from the table to face them. Proximity appeared to be all they had for right now.

"Are you pulling a double?" asked Sara.

He shrugged. "Not really, just kind of hanging out and waiting for Hodges to finish a couple of things," he said.

Sara knew he wasn't ready to go home yet. He had already spent some time with the department shrink and while she had cleared him to continue working, he would be seeing her once a week until further notice. First Holly Gribbs had been killed because Warrick had left her alone and now Nick had almost died because of a simple twist of assignment delegation. It was certain to be on his mind that if it hadn't been Nick, it would have been him.

Catherine poked her head into the room. "Warrick? Why are you still here?" she asked.

"I wanted to get the results from that convenience store robbery we worked last week," he said.

"That really isn't a priority thing-go home and get some sleep," she said

Warrick paused, "Sure, boss woman, no problem. I just thought I would hang out here a bit longer, ya know?"

Catherine always seemed surprised when anyone disagreed with one of her directives. Sometimes, she could be a little pigheaded when people disagreed with her. It was one of the many things that made her a different supervisor than Grissom and it was a drawback. When she spoke, she expected everyone to go along with her and often did not actually listen to what was being said.

This was not one of those times. She looked at Warrick carefully, nodded and came into the room to get a cup of coffee and sat down with them.

"So, where is everyone planning to take their vacation?" she asked.

"Dude, I am so going to Hawaii," crowed Greg triumphantly. "I have never been there before and I want to catch some of those waves!"

"Awww, Greggo, you just want to get lei'd" teased Catherine.

"You know it, hot mama. Are you volunteering?" he countered.

"Little boy, you wouldn't be able to keep up with me and I would ruin you for all other women. Besides, Sam offered the use of his place in Aspen, so Lindsey and I are going there," she said.

Sara excused herself and left the happy bantering, which was a welcome sound. She walked to Grissom office and stood in the doorway watching him for a few seconds before she softly knocked on the doorframe. He looked up from his mountain of paperwork.

"Could I come in?" she asked softly. He nodded.

She closed the door behind her and turned to look at him. "About your offer to go to San Francisco…I have my answer for you," she said.

A/N: This took me three days longer than I had planned to post, but the payoff for readers was that it was originally two chapters. I decided not to make people wait that much longer to find out if she goes to San Francisco or not. Plus, there was a lot more anti-Catherine lambasting (her behavior in TGTBTD, pissed me off) and I drastically reduced that rant!


	6. Chapter 7

A/N: Sorry this took me so long. I do make references to my previous story, The Journey of 1000 Miles, but you don't need to read it to understand the references. Next chapter will be posted before this Saturday...and it will have smut in it, so this will change to an M rating. Thanks for your patience.

Chapter Six

Gil could not compartmentalize all that he was thinking three weeks later as he drove to Sara's apartment to pick her up for the nine-hour drive to San Francisco. His multitude of thoughts were tinged with a lot of anxiety and could not be hidden in neat little cupboards in his mind. Part of him thought he must be losing his sanity to have even asked her to take her mandatory vacation days with him.

Realistically he knew his logical, fact-based scientific personality was bending to allow her into his life because he wanted to try having a relationship with her. A personal relationship….outside of work…without a safety net….like they had done many years ago. The only way for them to have this new beginning of sorts was to take some time away from work together and see if they still connected on a physical and emotional level. He already knew they were compatible intellectually. If anyone had ever asked him to describe his ideal woman, the qualities he would list could all be traced back to her.

How many times had she made the effort to try and establish something more for them and he had just squashed her without giving it a second thought? He had lost track at the number of times she looked like she wanted to say something to him, but then she would stop herself and leave the room, pretend to read a file or just say nothing at all. The Debbie Marlin case had been a wake-up call for him, but Nick's abduction (and a helluva lot of alcohol) had been the catalyst that moved him to take a step toward her instead of away from her for the first time in many years. He knew he was very lucky Sara was willing to try after all that he had put her through.

If he closed his eyes and thought about it, he could remember the summer day 14 years ago when they first met. He was teaching a summer class at Berkley. She had been forced to take the class after a mix-up in the registrar's office. He remembered her arriving for class the first day late and hungover. He had snapped at her in front of the class and later in private when she tried to apologize. It was safe to say they mutually hated each other at first site. She thought he had a few bugs up his ass and he thought she was a complete slacker.

Through a simple twist of fate, their attitudes had changed and they had a torrid affair for two months that summer. Up to that point, Gil had never had a relationship that affected him so much and so quickly. He had almost thrown away his chance to work at the Las Vegas crime lab to move to Boston to be near her. In the end, he hadn't wanted to tie her down to him. Then later, after he recovered from the loss of her, his work in Vegas had kept him from having a lot of time to date and it had been tough to find a woman outside of the workplace to listen even politely to his monologues on the mating habits of locusts. Come to think of it, he could usually clear the breakroom of both men and women when he started any topics on bugs. Hodges was usually the only one who stuck around…and God and everybody knew what an ass-kisser Hodges was. Gil knew he was guilty of boring Greg to death. Greg was a captive audience because he was trying so hard to get his approval. Warrick had told him once that Greg spent hours surfing the internet hoping to find some obscure fact about an even more obscure insect that Gil didn't know in an attempt to impress him.

_If I keep going the way I have been, I will be an old man talking to the flies on the ceiling and the spiders in the corners of my townhome before I am 60._ He thought ruefully. _With my luck, I will completely lose my mind and the flies and spiders will actually be talking back to me._

It was almost 600 PM when he entered the parking lot of Sara's apartment complex. They had both decided it would be better if they left at night. This gave them a chance to sleep after working the night before and there would be less traffic for them to contend with on the 600 mile trip. They were driving Gil's Jeep, but Sara had offered to pay for gas and to help with the driving. He had flatly refused the gas money. If she had thought it strange he preferred to drive instead of fly, she hadn't given any indication of it.

Sara was waiting for him on the curb with two suitcases and a cooler. She smiled at him when he got out and put her suitcases in the cargo area while she lifted the cooler into the backseat. He stifled a groan as he lifted the suitcases…had she decided to pack some concrete blocks for the trip?

As they drove out of the parking lot, he was the first to speak. "If I haven't already told you this, I'm really glad you decided to come on this trip," he said glancing at her.

"I almost didn't, but I was sitting in the breakroom with Greg, Warrick and Catherine and I remembered thinking about something I told you shortly after I met you at Berkley," she said.

"I was just thinking of our time at Berkley on the drive to your place," said Gil. "What made you change your mind?"

"We had just met, we were almost ready to have sex, but you hesitated because all we had was the summer. You were going to Las Vegas and I was going to Boston," she said. "At one point I told you that all we may have was 70 days, but in 71 days I wouldn't be full of regret because I hadn't had the experience at all."

Gil chuckled. "Truth be told, I was planning to use a similar discussion tactic with you if you hadn't given me an answer in a couple of days," he said. "That was right before my back up plan, which involved some serious groveling."

Sara rolled her eyes dramatically, "Oh that would have been pitiful, there is nothing worse than a begging entomologist. It probably would have included some alluding to the fate of the poor male grasshopper during copulation," she said.

For the next couple of hours the chatted and bantered back and forth. His sense of humor had always been dry, but he laughed a lot with her as they talked about some of the cases from their unofficial "strange, but true file". Finally there was a comfortable lull in the conversation and Gil spotted the cooler in the back seat.

"So, did you smuggle Greg on our trip with us in that thing?" he asked as he nodded in the general direction of the cooler.

"I figured by the time both of us decided we were hungry, everything would be closed, so I packed us some decent food. I made some fried chicken for you, a veggie wrap for me, a couple of salads and some chocolate cake. You know, all the basic picnic staples," she said.

"So you're saying there is homemade fried chicken in there and probably your grandmother's potato salad, right?" Gil asked. "I do pay attention to these things at potlucks."

"You got it," replied Sara happily. "Meemaw's potato salad and coleslaw are in the house."

"Hmmm, well all of a sudden I feel very hungry and there is a rest stop only 13 miles away," said Gil.


	7. Chapter 8

Chapter Seven

They pulled into the rest stop near the picnic tables and parked. Gil made sure he did not groan as he removed the cooler and carried it to one of the tables. Sara removed the containers and Gil found that he was actually ravenous for the first time in weeks. Nick's ordeal had taken a toll on Gil in many ways. He happily tore into the cold chicken.

"I have to admit, I'm surprised you made fried chicken," he said.

"So was I," admitted Sara. "But, it just seemed like the perfect food to have along for our road trip. I can honestly say, I loved the smell while it was cooking, but I have no desire to eat any of it."

"I would miss meat too much to ever be a vegetarian," said Gil.

"I have had liver a couple of times," said Sara. "My last physical showed my iron levels were a little low, so I eat more broccoli now. It has been good for me, I used to be the queen of take-out and delivery, but I have bought a few cookbooks and done some experimenting. I do not like eggplant or cooked spinach…I do have my limits!"

Gil laughed. "My mother could never get me to eat brussel sprouts or beets," he said. "I don't eat them to this day."

"Do you see the humor in that?" Sara asked. "You will eat chocolate covered grasshoppers and mealworms and stuff like that, but not beets or brussel sprouts."

"You should try some of the stuff I make, I just got a new recipe for cicada piccata," he teased.

"No, but thank you very much," replied Sara in an overly polite voice.

They chatted about their favorite restaurants and places they would like to see in San Francisco. Gil was surprised to learn Sara had two uncles in the area and they were excited to see her again. She didn't talk about her family much and he chose not to press her on the subject.

Both of them cleaned up the trash from their meal and used the restroom. When Gil was finished he found Sara standing by the Jeep waiting for him.

"The door is locked," she said in explanation.

"Oh, sorry about that…it's a habit after all these years, I guess," Gil said. He pushed the button on his remote and then reached to open her door. "You know there is something very familiar about this place, but I can't quite put my finger on it."

Sara looked around and in a moment was hit with a memory so strong and vivid it stopped her in her tracks.

Flashback…Summer 1991

They had driven from San Francisco to Vegas so Gil could do some house hunting and meet the people he would soon be working with. In no time, he had found a townhome he liked and the entire time he was at the lab meeting people he could only think of Sara back at the hotel. He had regaled her with stories of the crotchety Jim Brass, the very forward Miss Willows and a high school intern named Warrick. Most of his descriptions had revolved around how much of himself he saw in the 16-year-old doing coffee runs and other menial tasks. Warrick was pudgy with thick glasses and hair that looked like a bird's nest. Yet, Gil said his intelligence was visible and he would make a great scientist one day.

Once he had filled out all of his paperwork at the lab and for the purchase of his new place, there really was nothing for them to do. They seemed to spend a lot of time in bed and ordering room service.

One night around 9:00 PM they were lying in bed naked after just completing a very satisfying round of sexual Olympics. "You know, Sara, it seems silly for us to stay here if we have seen and done everything we want to do," said Gil.

"Mmmm, you were going to take me by the lab in a couple of hours," she replied.

"Do you really want to go see it?" he asked.

"I don't have to," she said.

"Then let's go home," he said.

"Now?"

"Sure, why not? I'm not tired and if we do get too tired to drive, we can always stop somewhere along the way and get a hotel," he said.

90 minutes later they were on the road out of Vegas. They probably would have left in under an hour if they hadn't decided to shower together.

The road trip had been good for them. They talked almost non-stop when they were together as it was and they had now developed a habit of firing questions back and forth to each other. Gil now knew her favorite breakfast cereal was Fruity Pebbles to his Cheerios. She had sheepishly admitted to being hooked on the television show Beverly Hills, 90210 and Gil had been more embarrassed and unable to defend himself when he told her he taped the teenybopper show so he wouldn't miss it.

A couple of hours into the drive Sara had casually leaned over the center console and started running her fingers up and down his right leg. She would stop just short of the hem of his shorts and lightly stroke back down to his knee. He grinned and took her hand in his a squeezed her hand affectionately. She removed her hand and continued to tease him, only now she was tracing the outline of his cock and balls through the thin fabric of his shorts. Gil soon found it difficult to concentrate on the road as his cock began to grow.

"And just what do you think you are doing, Miss Sidle?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing. Nothing at all," she replied.

He gasped when she squeezed the head of his cock. "Just so you know for future reference, you can't pull off the innocent act," he said.

"Well, in that case, why bother?" she asked.

She stretched herself over the console and had her head in his lap. She placed her mouth against the front of his shorts and began to blow through the fabric. The warm air made his cock jump and twitch. She adjusted her head and was soon blowing on his balls. She looked up at him and said, "How is that for a blowjob?"

"Sara, this is not a good idea. You are going to get us both killed," he said.

"I don't think so, you have better control than that," she teased. She slowly unzipped his shorts and popped the button. "Why Dr. Grissom, you're not wearing any underwear…"

She used her tongue to tease just the slit of his shaft. Grissom started to concentrate on keeping the minivan between the lines painted on the road. He was trying hard not to blink or close his eyes. Sara began to make little squiggles with her tongue up and down the underside of his shaft.

"Sara, you have to stop…there is a semi-truck coming up beside us," he hissed.

"Too bad it is dark, he won't get that good of a show," she responded.

As the semi pulled level with them Sara took him deep in her throat and he let out a mangled groan. She began to bob her head up and down and Gil was finding it harder to keep the van on the road. He could swear the truck driver gave him a thumbs-up as he passed them. Gil had slowed down to almost 50 miles an hour. His great-aunt Lucille drove faster than that…and she had been dead for ten years.

He could feel his orgasm building and the van veered off into the gravel as he closed his eyes for just a second.

"Sara, please…there is a hotel just a few miles away," he almost whimpered.

She responded by pulling him deep into her mouth and flicking her tongue up to circle his cock.

"Jesus Christ!" exclaimed Gil as he found himself involuntarily thrusting in and out of her mouth. Two minutes later she heard him say, "Fuck the hotel," and could feel the van making a right turn. He stopped the van and put it in park.

She sat up, expecting to see a hotel sign. "Where is the hotel?" she asked.

"To hell with that, take off your pants and get in the back," he said.

"Mmmm, I love it when you get all romantic with me…is that foreplay?" she asked.

"It is probably all the foreplay you are going to get, you hussy," he said.

Sara laughed and dove for the back seat. In one fluid motion she had removed her shorts and panties. Gil was on top of her removing her shirt and his shorts at the same time.

"Oh, God, please Sara, please…." he murmured.

"Go ahead, I'm ready, I was just teasing about foreplay," she answered.

"Thank God." He plunged into her hard and fast. He began stroking and thrusting with every ounce of energy he had. His hips swiveled and he could feel their pelvic bones meet each other with every downward plunge. It didn't matter to either of them that the van was visibly rocking back and forth.

"You little, tease, I'm not going to last very long after twenty minutes of sheer torture," he said.

Sara was already meeting him stroke for stroke and trying to pull him in deeper. She could feel her climax and began to moan. "I'm close…God, Gil…don't stop."

Gil surprised himself by being able to hold off until she was near the end of her orgasm. Soon, he couldn't hold back and he came with a shout. When he flooded her pussy she began to convulse again. Finally the only sound in the van was their heavy breathing.

Gil was lying awkwardly on top of her. The backseat had not exactly been big enough for both of them to lie down. He was lying on her chest, but both of his knees were on the floor. Sara looked over his shoulder. "You know we fogged up the windows?" she asked.

I'm not the least but shocked by that," he answered.

Eventually he opened the sliding door and they both adjusted their clothes to step outside. Gil was rummaging through the back of the minivan. "I think I have some baby wipes back here somewhere. I use them at work for sanitary clean up so the latex gloves dry my hands out," he said.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"A rest stop just over the California line," he answered.

"This is a definite first for me," she laughed.

"Me, too. You should hear what I have read about sex in an airplane…that can be quite a rush as well," he said.

They crossed the parking lot to the restroom. He handed her the package of baby wipes after taking a couple for himself.

"Sara….Sara….?"

Sara started and came back to the present day. July, 2005. She wondered how long she had been standing there, reliving the flashback. Her face was suffused with heat. She climbed into the Jeep.

Grissom opened his door and while the light in the car was still on she said, "You're right, this place does look familiar. But the picnic tables used to be over by those trees."


	8. Chapter 9

Chapter Eight

There had been no conversation in the car for almost an hour. Gil had flushed bright red after her casual declaration of where the picnic tables used to be located. Both of them now had the same memory in their mind and knew what the other was thinking about. Sara had made up her mind to let him break the silence. She desperately wanted to turn on the radio to help cut the tension.

She looked down at her lap and then out the window. Gil poignantly cleared his throat.

"What were you think about just now?" he asked.

Sara bit her cheek, but it didn't stop her from teasing him. "You mean other than the fact the picnic tables had been moved?" she asked innocently.

This time he didn't blush or flinch. "You know, 14 years ago there were fewer lights at that rest stop…and no security cameras," he replied. He glanced over at her and they smiled at each other sheepishly.

"I was thinking two things, actually," she said.

"I'd really like to know," he said softly.

"Well, first of all, I was thinking that I am now almost the same age you were when we first met. I look at myself at this age and I look at how you were at this age and I feel kind of sad," she said.

"Why is that?" he asked.

"Because I don't think 36-year old Sara would do the same things that 22-year old Sara did. I mean, I know we all have to grow up but maybe there was a certain spontaneity and joy of life I had then that I don't have now," she said.

Gil was silent for a moment. "Some nights before I fall asleep, I remember the fun we had when it was just us," he said. "We did have a lot of fun and maybe we were less jaded back then than we are now. I miss feeling the way I did when I was with you."

"I wonder what I would go back and tell 22-year old Sara and what advice you would have for 37-year old Gil," she said.

Ten minutes later he still had not responded to her. This time she was going to turn the radio to any station just to keep the silence from overwhelming her. Without warning, he pulled over to the side of the road and turned off the motor. He looked at her.

"I would tell 37-year old Gil to say, 'The hell with Vegas…go to Boston to be with her.' I know I haven't been good to you these last few years, but the biggest mistake I made was letting you go back then. I loved you and I gave that up…for what?" he asked.

"Do you think it's too late for us, now?" she asked.

"The best of romances deserve second chances," he said. "I believe it is only too late if we both aren't willing to try."

"I never pictured you as a Peabo Bryson kind of guy," she said lightly.

"You probably wondered why I wanted to drive instead of fly and why we left so late in the day," he said.

"Well, I'm pretty sure you're not the type of person to kidnap a girl, drive her out to the desert and leave her at the mercy of the elements," she said.

He laughed, despite the macabre sentiment and the visual of Nick flashing through his mind. "I wanted a chance for us to talk without any interruptions or distractions. No cell phones, no work pressures, just you and I," he said.

And they did talk for the remainder of the drive. They discussed their families and Gil learned more about her than what she had told him before and what he had looked up in different databases. He spoke about the trauma of losing his dad and the fear he had when his he started to have hearing problems. Most of the topics they covered were serious, but they needed to be discussed.

They stopped for fuel a couple of times and to eat again. This time the rest area had a two mile trail for people to walk their dogs. They walked it to stretch their legs. Gil casually reached for her hand and she felt a ridiculous sensation of her stomach doing flip-flops. Near the end of the trail he stopped and they were facing each other. He gently stroked her cheek. Sara wondered if he would kiss her. She leaned forward and he wrapped his arms around her. They stood in the middle of the trail just hugging for a few glorious moments until Gil kissed the top of her head and mumbled something about getting to San Francisco before rush hour.

Gil had thought about kissing her, but he wanted it to be special. In some ways, he was hoping she would kiss him and make the first move. It would signify (to him at least) a change in their relationship and how much they had grown.

A couple of hours later they arrived at the hotel and checked in to their rooms. He handed her keycard to her room and debated on whether to give her one to his room as well. He asked the desk clerk for two cards for his room, but kept the spare one for now.

Sara had been visibly surprised to find her room was across the hall from his instead of adjoining. She looked back and forth between the two doors.

"I wanted us to be close to each other, but I wanted us to be able to have our own space as well," said Gil in explanation.

They agreed to take a few hours to sleep and meet in the lobby at 1200 to decide what to do for lunch.

Sara unpacked her bags and took a long shower. She consciously knew she was preparing for something to happen as she shaved for the second time in three days. She tried to sleep, but visions of Gil in his room kept her from truly relaxing. They were away from Vegas. He had said he loved her years ago. Did he wear boxers now? She shook her head and tried not to think about his body pressed against hers. Eventually she gave up the idea of sleep and wrote a note and slid it under his door.

Had Gil known Sara was having trouble sleeping, he probably would have suggested they go for brunch or something. He read for a while and dozed fitfully. He was actually in San Francisco…alone with Sara. Around 1030, he awoke for the hundredth time and decided to take a shower. As he walked toward the bathroom, he saw a sheet of paper on the floor.

_G-_

_The sun is actually shining in San Francisco. I am down at the pool catching some rays and soaking in the hot tub. Meet me there when you are ready. S_

He took a quick shower and threw on his swim trunks and a t-shirt. As he entered the pool area, he felt his throat tighten and his heart start beating faster.

"I'm not completely convinced it is smart to be getting a real tan," he said as he lay down in the chaise lounge next to her.

"Griss, just because we spend most of our lives on the same schedule as your friendly neighborhood vampire, does not mean we have to resemble them," she said. She opened her eyes and turned to face him. "What is that look for?"

"I'm pretty sure seeing you in a two-piece bathing suit is going to give me a heart attack," he replied. His eyes were an intense bright blue and Sara thought he looked a bit flustered.

She laughed heartily. "Well, I don't know about you, but that is not my first choice for a physical reaction from you."

"There is a reason why I'm currently lying on my stomach."

A/N: There may be several days before I post the next chapter...my Lady Heather muse has reappeared. While she is very angsty, I will be working on a one-shot for a bit.


	9. Chapter 10

**Title:** The Destination  
**Author:** Giwu  
**Rating:** M  
**Pairing:** GSR  
**Summary:** How did Sara and Grissom get back together?  
**Spoilers: **This is a continuation of my story, The Journey of 1000 Miles. You don't have to read that one prior to reading this one. Series spoilers...up to Season 7.  
**Author's Notes: **GSR is canon...some of my details may not be.  
**Disclaimer: **You-all do know I don't own them, right?

Chapter Nine

They lounged around the pool for a couple of hours. Gil had been very grateful for the cool water of the pool and spent much of the first hour swimming lazy laps. He would have been even more grateful for the frigid water of the Pacific Ocean. He couldn't remember the last time he had been this aroused…and he didn't want to. That wouldn't help his situation at all. He tried to think of boring things like getting an oil change for his Jeep and was Catherine feeding his roaches or not. He avoided looking directly at Sara as often as possible. She seemed perfectly content to bask in the rays. She was obviously enjoying the impact her swimsuit had on him.

It wasn't the skimpiest swimsuit he had ever seen-there had been plenty of those while he was at hotels in Vegas investigating whatever crime had occurred. But this was SARA and seeing that much of her skin made him want to stroke every inch that was exposed and get her worked into a frenzy before he explored the unexposed areas. His mind flashed to how responsive she had been to his touch all those years ago. He shook his head in a vain attempt to clear the image. '_A 50-year-old-man should have a lot better control over his biological reactions,' _he thought. Inwardly he cursed his body's betrayal while trying to maintain an expression of calm.

He and Sara each ordered a drink and sandwiches. For the first time they talked about work. He was excited the team would be together again and Catherine would be a co-supervisor. He was happy to have someone to pawn off all the paperwork and other distasteful aspects of the job.

The discussed the early days of him working as an assistant coroner and Sara was surprised when he told her why he initially chose to be a CSI rather than a college professor or a coroner.

"I never would have been able to be a police officer, every little boy wants to be a police officer or an astronaut," he said. "But the work I do gets me out of bed in the morning because I know and believe that we help put the bad guys away for a long time. I love the challenge of the puzzle aspect to a case. Plus, I never thought my fascination with bugs would lead me to this point when I was a kid-neither did my mother."

"Oddly enough, it's because of you that I entered this field. You were the equivalent of a bug to me, I guess." He pursed his lips and scowled good-naturedly at her. "Your exuberance about the work stuck with me the three years I was at Harvard getting my Master's degree," she said. "When I graduated, it just seemed like the most natural decision in the world. I was lucky there was an opening the San Francisco lab."

"Does Greg know you were a lab rat before becoming a CSI?" he teased.

"I would probably become his new role model," she laughed. "His current one seems to take delight in tormenting him."

"Hey!" he protested. "Everyone needs a hobby. Besides, he torments me just as much. I am convinced he lies awake at night thinking of new ways to drive me crazy."

"You know, you would have been a great professor, Dr. Grissom," she said.

"Only if I had students like you," he responded. "I would like to teach again someday. I just don't think I could do teach and work at the lab."

They tried to come up with a rough schedule for their next couple of days. Both of them wanted to walk around the Berkley campus and also go to Coit Tower. Sara was planning to have lunch with one of her uncles the next day.

He stretched and stifled a yawn. "Before we both end up burned to a crisp, maybe we should get out of the sun," he said.

They decided to take showers and meet in the hotel bar at 500 PM. Gil suggested they eat at Cyma, the Greek restaurant where she had worked when she was in college. Sara immediately felt her mouth start to water. "I suppose having three or four servings of baklava does not count as a balanced meal," she said, her voice full of regret.

"We can always get several servings to go so we have enough for a couple of midnight snacks," he said.

As they entered the elevator Sara had one towel wrapped around her waist and one towel thrown haphazardly over her shoulders. He could smell the coconut scent of her suntan lotion. He started to sweat even in the coolness of the elevator. She was quietly watching him. His heart beat faster.

"So I was wondering if the reverse is true?" she said.

Grissom didn't hide his confusion, "Reverse?" he asked.

"You know, what happens in San Francisco, stays in San Francisco," she said. Did he know that she was aroused by being this close to him in a small space? She could swear the smell of sex and musk pervaded the elevator instead of the expected smell of suntan lotion and chlorine.

Grissom felt like he had been punched in the solar plexus. After all he had said, she still thought this was just going to be a ten-day trip. He had been a real asshole for too many years. "Sara, I am hoping we build a foundation here that we can take back to Vegas and begin a new chapter of our lives," he said.

She looked down at the floor of the elevator so he would see the tears forming. The silence only lasted a few seconds, but the tension was so thick it felt like she was being smothered. Fortunately, he found a way to break the emotional tension, but by doing so, he created physical tension.

He playfully removed his own towel from his neck and looped it around her. She raised an eyebrow and her breath quickened. They were now facing each other and he took a few steps backward until he felt the wall of the elevator against his back. He leaned against it and looked into her eyes. One more tug of the towel and she was standing between his legs.

It wouldn't have been correct to say that he kissed her. They kissed each other. He leaned toward her at the same time she leaned toward him and their lips met. The kiss was soft and tender. When she opened her mouth a moan escaped and his tongue met hers. She wrapped her arms around him and their bodies rubbed against each other as the kiss deepened. His hands were on her waist and he held her tightly.

The elevator chimed when they reached their floor. They broke apart slowly and both of them were panting. Sara pointed to the corner of the elevator as the exited and Grissom smiled.

"Do you suppose hotel security enjoyed the show?" he asked nodding in the direction of the camera.

"I would bet my paycheck for the next year that it isn't anything they haven't seen already," she said.

They reached their respective doors and both of them looked at each other and then at the doors to their rooms. The question of 'what now' hung unasked in the air. Sara was pretty sure they wouldn't be eating at Cyma that night. She also knew that room service would be more rewarding the baklava.

"Grissom?" she asked quietly.

"Yes, Sara?" he answered.

"I know what gets you out of bed…but could you tell me what it takes to get you into bed?"

A/N: Many, many thanks to McCoylover from 1) for loaning me the last line of this chapter from her wonderful story Prosecutorial Misconduct and 2) for giving me ideas to flesh out this chapter. I was floundering badly. Thanks much!


	10. Chapter 11

**Title:** The Destination  
**Author:** Giwu  
**Rating:** M  
**Pairing:** GSR  
**Summary:** How did Sara and Grissom get back together?  
**Spoilers: **This is a continuation of my story, The Journey of 1000 Miles. You don't have to read that one prior to reading this one. Series spoilers...up to Season 7.  
**Author's Notes: ** GSR is canon...some of my details may not be.  
**Disclaimer: **You-all do know I don't own them, right?

Chapter Ten

"I know what gets you out of bed…but could you tell me what it takes to get you into bed?"

Three things happened very quickly after Sara asked him that question. With amazing speed, Grissom slammed the keycard into the card reader, grabbed her by the wrist and roughly pushed her into his room and against the wall. Somewhere in the back of her mind she realized he had kicked the door closed. But her focus was on the fact that he had pinned her hands over her head and was pressing his body against hers. The soft and tender kiss he had given her in the elevator was gone and now his lips were bruising hers as his tongue insistently pushed into her mouth.

For her part, Sara returned his urgent kiss and even bit his bottom lip sucking it into her mouth. Her hands were gripping his chest and she squeezed. This seemed to encourage him. His knee was insistently nudging her to spread her legs and was then between her legs and she increased the pressure, rubbing her mound against his knee without any hesitation. She was reminded how skimpy her bathing suit was as she felt herself become damp. She moaned into his mouth and whispered his name. He responded by tearing the towel off her that she had wrapped around her waist. He quickly shoved his hand down her bikini bottom and she involuntarily yelped when his hands tangled in her sparse curls.

Her cry of pain broke the spell and he froze in place. One hand still held hers over her head and one was within centimeters of her throbbing nub. He remained motionless for what seemed like hours, but it was probably only a couple of seconds. Slowly he released her hands and removed his hand from her bikini. When he stepped back from her she saw his eyes were dark enough that they no longer appeared blue. His face and neck were flushed and he moved away from her to sit on the end of the bed. He was breathing heavy and she saw his chest rise and fall with each deep gulp of air. She thought his hands might be trembling.

Sara felt her heartbeat return to normal and was disappointed to feel the adrenaline rush slipping away from her. She swallowed hard and wet her lips. Once she had regained her composure she softly said one word, "Grissom?"

He heard the unasked question in her voice and forced a soft smile in her direction. He knew his actions had confused her, but he needed a few moments to steady himself before he could find his voice. He held his hand out to her in a silent invitation. She bent to pick up her towel and covered herself again before she approached him cautiously and sat next to him.

"Did I do something wrong?" she asked softly. She hated the plaintive note that crept into her voice and resisted the urge to cover up her insecurity by saying something hateful. _'What the hell was the matter with this guy? He spent years pushing her away and then when he did make his move he did so without any warning and with just enough aggression to get her turned on in a matter of seconds.'_ She shook her head and the little voice inside her told her to take the high road. She knew the frustration she was feeling now would not make it easy to keep her from striking out at him.

Grissom was now watching her, his flush had faded but he had a look of horror on his face. "Sara, please don't think that. I promise you didn't do anything wrong. I just need a couple more minutes to calm down, okay?" he asked.

They sat in an awkward silence long enough that Sara began to count quietly to herself. When she had reached 167, he took a shuddering breath.

"I can't believe I almost lost control like that," he said. "That has never happened to me in my entire life."

She really couldn't help it, she laughed in complete relief. "Griss, I wasn't exactly complaining, you know," she said lightly.

He shook his head. "That isn't how I want this time to be like for us. I don't know what came over me. I think something inside of me just snapped and I lost my mind." he said.

"The fact that you did lose control and were that excited was adding to my arousal and enjoyment. It was quite a rush to have you take me like that," she said.

"I almost took you against the wall, with only my pleasure in mind. Sociologists may say that humans don't have any instincts, only two drives-hunger and sexual. I would like to think I have evolved beyond that of a caveman," he said wryly.

"I don't think you need to plead temporary insanity or change your name to Mogh," she said.

The look of complete confusion on his face was priceless and she knew she wouldn't need a camera to remember it for the rest of her life. Greg would have been envious if he knew she had made Grissom look like that.

"Mogh?" he asked.

"Sure," she responded confidently. "Mogh Grissom…21st century caveman. It has a nice caveman-like sound to it and your not-so-distant relatives at GEICO would be impressed."

With a roar of mock indignation her wrestled her onto her back and began tickling her. She was laughing hysterically and made an attempt to tickle him as well. She bit into his shoulder with enough pressure that he knew what she was trying to do. He moved his body away from her mouth. Before long he was stretched out on top of her and she was pinned to the mattress.

"Go ahead," he growled playfully into her ear. "Call me that again, if you dare…"

"Mogh, Mogh, Mogh, MOGH!" she yelled happily. He had nipped her right nipple through her swimsuit and she had jerked against him. He pushed his groin against hers and she could feel him hardening against her

"I am so coming up with a cavewoman name for you the first chance I get," he said silkily.

"Aw, you're all talk and no action," she teased him breathlessly.

With that he began to softly kiss her neck, moving his lips up to her ear and following the path of her beating pulse. He sucked on her earlobe and she shuddered. He peppered her neck with kisses as he crossed over to her other ear. He no longer had his complete body weight on her anymore and was using one hand to trace the outline of her nipples through the suit.

"Hmmm, are you happy to see me or is the room too cold?" he teased.

She pulled him to her and kissed him. Their tongues dueled with each other and she arched against him. She could feel the goose bumps spread all over her body and she shivered against him. Her nipples were becoming painfully hard and in one fluid motion she unhooked the strapless bikini top. The look of appreciation on his face made her glad she had bought one with a front clasp.

He sat up straddling her and took a breast in each hand. "You are so beautiful," he whispered. "I can't believe I forgotten how perfect your body is and how it feels to have it against me."

His complete sincerity caused her throat to tighten and she was afraid tears would well up in her eyes. She reached to touch his face tenderly and then broke the intensity of the moment with a joking comment.

"You know, before this goes any further, unless we both agree that the taste and smell of chlorine is an aphrodisiac, maybe we should go take a shower, Mogh"

A/N: Thanks again to mccoylover for the great line, I pasted it at the start of the chapter, even though I probably didn't need to, since so many people enjoyed it as well! I would like to acknowledge the fact that there is no completed sexual act in this chapter BECAUSE Mingsmommy is holding the smut icon hostage. Since she is torturing me, I figured I would pass it on to everyone else.

My apologies in advance, but there will probably be no new chapters until July 10th ish.


	11. Chapter 12

Chapter Eleven

It seemed to take a long time for them to actually get to the bathroom. They kissed their way across the room, their hands wildly groping and caressing each other's bodies. The cool metal of the doorframe bit into Sara's nearly bare back and legs as he held her in against and plundered her mouth with increasing ardor. Normally she would have squirmed away from the discomfort, but with a start she realized she was absolutely….hungry for him. It was a delicious assault to her senses when she acknowledged nothing else mattered but having him touch her and be as close to her as possible. She knew he was burning inside as well when she lifted her right leg and hooked it around his waist and he groaned into her mouth at the contact they now had. He pushed his hardened shaft against her and they both could feel the heat and desire of the other through the two layers of swimsuit that separated them.

A casual observer might have believed it was a moment of awkwardness and hesitation when they untangled themselves, broke apart in the confines of the bathroom and looked at each other. The only sound was Sara breathing heavily and she fought to control the dizziness she was starting to feel from lack of oxygen. Outwardly, Grissom appeared calmer, but his eyes had darkened to the point they reminded her of unlit charcoal.

When her breathing had stabilized, Sara reached to undo the flimsy clasp that held her bikini top closed.

"Stop," he said simply.

A feeling of horror flooded through every crevice in her mind. _"Please, God_," she thought. "_Don't let him change his mind now. I can't spend the rest of my life feeling this incomplete. It will haunt me every waking moment. It there a feminine equivalent to blue balls?"_ She kept her expression impassive, yet somehow Grissom sensed her apprehension.

"I would like to do the unwrapping, if you don't mind," he said reassuringly.

"So you think I'm a present?" she asked. Her smile was warm and inviting.

"No doubt in my mind," he said jauntily. Then his tone changed to that of a verbal caress. "You are the best gift I ever received."

"My God, I think that is probably the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me," she whispered.

"Please, Sara…may I?" he asked. His hands hovered cautiously less than an inch away from the clasp. She nodded, not trusting her voice.

Grissom moved slowly. He wanted to remember every detail for the rest of his life and as long as he had a modicum of control, he was not going to rush this encounter. He had waited 14 years, what were a few more minutes? He just had to ignore the persistent voice screaming in his head, '_a few more minutes is a fucking __**lifetime**__.'_ There would be ample reward for his patience. It started with the convenient fact the clasp was in the front and he didn't have to reach around and fumble with an unseen tormenter. It would have been his undoing to have been unable to smoothly unhook the flimsy garment and he had little doubt that he would have ripped it from her body in frustration. "_Now, Mogh_," he chided his now-named voice internally, "_rise above your Neanderthal reputation_."

He felt his throat clench and his breathing stop the moment her breasts came into view. When he first met Sara in her early 20's, he had thought then she had a great body. It paled in comparison to the soft, full curves she now had as a woman in her mid-30's. He made a note to find a way to subtly tell her that later. For now, he let the piece of cloth drop carelessly to the floor and used his fingertips to trace a lazy, unhurried pattern along her shoulders and neck. He continued down her torso and the first time he drew the shape of a circle outside the perimeter of her areoles he was rewarded by the immediate hardening of her nipples. He smiled in wonderment and felt a touch a relief that she was as aroused as he was. He already knew she wanted this, she wanted him, but the involuntary reaction of her body to indirect stimulus convinced him that ALL of her wanted what he had to offer. He began to make his spirals smaller around the confines of her breast, each time coming just a little bit closer to her nipples. She trembled when he finally did circle the nipple. Then she moaned when just the pad of one fingertip moved across the top of each nipple. The sensation was so very arousing, yet completely unsatisfying. She swallowed away her urge to plea for him to throw away the seductive Grissom and take her on the bathroom floor. That would have been even more primal than against the wall. She closed her eyes.

It was the reaction he had been waiting for. Without any further preamble he moved quickly and sucked one taut peak into his mouth, while squeezing the other nipple with his hand.

It was her undoing. "Grissom," she choked. "Please…" His response was to shift his mouth to her other breast and she wrapped her arms around neck as used him as an anchor to keep from falling. Her legs were trembling hard enough that she knew soon she would be slumped completely against him. She ran her fingers through his hair and eventually tugged him back to her mouth.

He broke the kiss. "You know, I'm starting to think that maybe the smell and taste of chlorine is an aphrodisiac," he said.

"Somebody should probably tell that to Calvin Klein and Liz Claiborne," she said shakily.

He laughed and kissed her once again. Then he turned away from her and began to fiddle with the hot and cold water knobs, adjusting the temperature. He removed his shirt and Sara made an O shape with her mouth. She had just spent hours with him down by the pool and he hadn't been wearing a shirt. Yet now, all she could think about was how his chest hair would feel against her smooth skin.

When she and Grissom had first met, they hadn't exactly started off on the right foot. She hadn't been the least bit attracted to him until she took a second look and even then she had ruled him out as 'not her type'. He had been tan and his hair had been long enough to be considered unruly. Back then, they had mutually seduced the other's mind first by the very nature of their differing personalities.

Now, 14 years later, he presented an image that he was completely at ease with his appearance and the aging process. Time had been good to him. '_I hope I am that attractive when I am his age,' _she thought.

He slowly eased the rest of her swimsuit over her hips and down her legs. She used one hand to balance herself on his shoulder as she lifted first one leg and then the other until she was completely naked in front of him.

"God, Sara…you are so beautiful. I mean, don't get me wrong, you are attractive with clothes on as well, but this is the mental picture I carry in my mind. The softness of your breasts, the visible beating of your heart…." he said in a rush that bordered on babbling.

"It is my turn to see the mental picture that I carry," she said, interrupting him. _Evidently the nervousness fairly had just arrived in Gil Grissom's world_. She reached inside his swim trunks and deftly untied the drawstring. She tugged the garment away from his body and squeezed his ass when they dropped to the floor. His nipples were now puckered and she was delighted to see the rapid spreading of goose bumps over his chest and arms.

A/N: If it is possible to be hung in effigy online…it is going to happen to me now. Next chapter will be posted before 11:00 PM CST July 11th.


	12. Chapter 13

Chapter Twelve

The water cascaded over their heated bodies and the slow, sensual dance of arousal continued in the shower. Sara reached for the bar of soap first and began to work a thick lather of suds into her hands. She started washing him at his shoulders and began to methodically travel from his shoulders to his chest and down to the patch of hair that began just over his navel and spiraled lower. He had sucked in a deep breath and hissed when she allowed her hands to separate at his hips and continued to travel down his legs, completely avoiding his groin area. His shaft was achingly hard and the visible part of the head of his cock was a deep red color as the blood flowed to it relentlessly. Looking down and seeing Sara on her knees swirling soap suds did nothing to lessen his excitement. If anything, it became more pronounced as his entire body was starting to feel overly sensitive to the slightest touch of her hands, the slightest feel of the shower spray and the echo of the circulating air from the bathroom fan.

He reached for her shoulder. "Sara, please…" he said.

She grinned in his direction and cooed, "Something wrong, babe?"

He laughed and pulled her up by her shoulders. He threaded one hand through her hair and tugged her mouth to his. His kiss was bordering on ferocious as he turned them around so that he was now under the flow of water. He shook his head when she reached for the shampoo. "I want to wash you," he said as he took the shampoo from her and quickly washed and rinsed his hair. He took the bar of soap from her hands and began to make his own lather. She shivered once and he realized it was not from arousal but from the fact she was cold, wet and exposed. With some more maneuvering she was again getting the brunt of the water.

He was planning to quickly soap up his cock and consider himself clean before washing her, but the moment he touched himself and pulled his foreskin away from the head of his cock he trembled. A couple of quick strokes with his right hand and he was using his left hand to support himself against the wall of the shower. His breath was coming in fast gasps and when he opened his eyes Sara was watching him.

Sara's eyes were hooded with desire. "It is amazingly arousing to watch you do that to yourself," she said throatily. "For as long as I can remember whenever I pleasure myself, you are the only person I fantasize about."

His resolve was gone and fortunately, so was hers. He quickly handed the bar of soap to Sara and they both proceeded to wash her with remarkable speed. They barely took any time to dry off before they tumbled onto the bed. The residue of water from their hair and bodies would make it impossible for them to sleep comfortably on his bed tonight.

She was on top of him and she could feel his cock against her leg. She had her hands on his chest and she squeezed. "_Pectorals_." Somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind the urge to correctly name the muscles popped to the front of her consciousness. _"These are Grissom's pecs."_

"I like your chest," she said right before she leaned to capture one of his nipples in her mouth. She suckled and then bit down lightly, feeling him tense and rock his cock against her leg and she increased the pressure of her teeth around his nipple.

"Not half as much as I like yours," he said. "Sometimes at work, in the early morning hours if we are processing a crime scene outside, I can see your nipples get hard in the cool air. When the size and the shape are visible through your clothing it reminds me of gumdrops. During those times I have to hide my own hardness."

Sara released his nipple with a final, sharper nip and he jerked. "OH. MY. GOD," she said dramatically.

"What?" he asked.

"Just last week Brass and I were talking about the fact that at times after much of a scene is processed you'll whistle. It's always the same song and he was complaining about listening to you whistle for twenty minutes when he drove with you back to the lab. The song stuck in his head for the rest of the shift and he was ready to strangle you," she said.

"I'm certain I never whistle," he replied seriously.

Sara reached behind her and between his legs and gently held his testicles in her hands. His eyes twinkled at the point she was making even as another surge of desire flooded through him. "Ahem," she cleared her throat loudly. "Exactly how certain are we that we never whistle?"

"So, discussing this hypothetically…if I do whistle, which I don't think I do, what song do I whistle?" he asked.

"The Candy Man."

Grissom blushed and stammered. "Yyy-ou know, this is Vegas. Sammy was very popular here." He hooked his leg over one of hers and flipped both of them over with ease. Both of his thumbs flicked her nipples. "Your nipples are so hard now. I can't help it if they remind me of gumdrops. This seems like a good time for a taste. Personally, I like gumdrops."

He moved himself to one site and sucked one nipple into his mouth. His hand stroked her ribcage and outlined each rib on its journey. He stopped to play with her navel before he gently stroked the sparse thatch of hair on her mound. His palm pressed against her clit and her lips as he splayed his fingers and rhythmically moved his hand back and forth. Sara's eyes were closed, but her mouth was open and a tortured look crossed her face as he teased her. He released her nipple with a loud 'pop' and sat up and positioned himself to use both of his hands.

He slowly slid two fingers inside of her steamy crevice. She began to moan continually as he started to stroke them in and out of her, picking up the pace and she began to thrust with his strokes. He felt the muscles of her began to squeeze in fingers in no particular pattern.

Maybe people change as they get older, but some things stay the same. Grissom seemed to remember her body language from those many years ago. He could read her reactions to his ministrations and when it clicked in him that she was teetering on the edge of the orgasmic precipice, he brought his other hand to her clit and deftly moved the hood away and flicked it, just once. A keening wail echoed through the room and his fingers were subjected to her wildly gyrating body and muscles that now had his fingers in a vise-like clamp. He continued to stroke her clit in a pattern and it was difficult for him to tell if she was having one long orgasm or a series of multiple orgasms.

Finally she reached to stop his hands. "Please, Griss…please, Gil. Part of me wants to give you the same pleasure right now," she jerked as he removed her hands and winced at the loss. "But I really need you inside me." Her eyes were lust-filled and her tone was bordering on panic.

"Whatever the lady desires," he said gallantly. His flippant attitude disappeared when he positioned himself and felt the heat and wetness of her on the head of his cock. He was supporting himself on his hands and he leaned forward to kiss her and he slowly inserted the head of his cock into her passage. The further he pushed himself into her the more their tongues tangled. He was about halfway inside when she grabbed his ass and pulled him into her completely.

The intensity of the connection almost caused him to lose his balance and lay his full weight on her. In that split second, he didn't see his life flash before his eyes, but he did vividly recall every time they had ever made love-or so he convinced himself. In the moment they joined together, he remembered exactly what had happened in her apartment when he had been drunk. The feel of her walls caressing his cock was one that he had never forgotten. He groaned as he withdrew himself only to plunge deep into her again and again.

A/N: This is the end of the smut for a couple of chapters. Next chapter will be done before next Wednesday.

Additional author's note: My house sold and this story is on temporary hiatus until after August 5th. Shh...I hope to have a new chapter by the 2nd or 3rd, but I wanted a couple of days as a cushion!


	13. Chapter 14

A/N: My apologies for this update taking so long, please read the A/N at the end of this chapter for more info.

Chapter 13

A few hours later Gil awoke and after a brief moment of disorientation, recognized his surroundings. He was in a hotel room in San Francisco…in bed…with Sara. They had fallen asleep spooned next to each other. This had to be the best moment in his life up to this point. He gently eased himself away from her and she stirred, but did not wake up completely. As much as he would have liked to have taken one of her nipples in his mouth and started all over again, his body told him there were other more pressing priorities.

When he was finished taking a quick shower, he reentered the room. There was no doubt about it; she absolutely took his breath away. The sight of beard burn on the back of her neck really did make him want to puff up with male pride. That had been one of his favorite positions. Of course, they all had been his favorites. He shook his head to clear his mind since his body was starting to think with his smaller head. He watched her sleeping for a few minutes before he made a soft phone call to room service. The voice at the other end of the phone sounded a bit harried and he felt a twinge of guilt. According to the in-room menu, the kitchen was scheduled to close in five minutes and he had just ordered enough food for a small army.

"_I guess I can't really tell them I'm famished because I had an Olympic sex-a-thon_," he thought with a wry smile on his face. He jokingly wondered what score the judges would have given them.

He lay down next to her and gently kissed the back of her neck and inspected his handiwork closer. She had a several hickeys on her shoulder blades and he felt a moment of angst_. She seemed to enjoy getting them at the time, but I hope she isn't bother by them now._

Sara slowly regained consciousness feeling soft lips on her neck and fingers stroking her hair and ears. She moaned appreciatively. "That feels wonderful, Griss. Not as good as sex, but very, very close," she said.

"Well, the scalp is an erogenous zone for many people and I noticed earlier you are responsive when your hair is stroked," he said.

"Really? And where, pray tell, are my other erogenous zones?" she asked. She rolled over to face him and he saw that her eyes were darkening with arousal.

He groaned and made a face that resembled a scowl. "As much as I would enjoy that, I woke you because I ordered room service. I just don't feel like sharing you with the waiter who delivers it in a few minutes. I thought you might like a quick shower and to put on some clothes," he said.

"Gee, that would be an interesting scenario," she said. "I have always wanted to do something worthy of Penthouse Letters."

Sara slowly got out of bed and grabbed one of his t-shirts from his open suitcase. He raised his eyebrows in shock when she wrapped her damp towel around herself and headed to the door to his room.

"Where, exactly, do you think you are going only half-dressed?" he said. A laugh caught in his throat as soon as he asked the question.

"My clothes are all in my room. Somehow I don't think I will flash anyone in the three steps between your door and mine," she said saucily. She picked his keycard up from the floor near the door. "I will be right back; food would hit the spot right now. I don't know how I got so famished." Gil threw a pillow in her direction and she laughed as she opened the door.

Ten minutes later she had returned and Gil was certain he could smell mangoes. The food had just been delivered and he had spread it out on the small table in the room. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed happily scarfing down her pasta and salad. They ate in a companionable silence.

As she was eating some kind of chocolate cake, she seemed to find her voice. Out of the blue she said, "Tell me something I don't know about you."

Gil chewed slowly and thought for a moment. "I have always wanted a dog," he said.

Sara nodded. "Go on, tell me why and what kind," she said.

"Well, as a kid, I always wanted a dog, but I realized when I was probably eight or nine, my mom had enough on her plate. Since I couldn't have that for a pet, I think that is why I became so interested in bugs," he said.

"I never thought your interest in bugs came from not being able to have a pet," Sara said.

"Well, it was part of it," he said. "But actually what really got my juices flowing was when I visited my mother last year, she had a helper dog. It is just amazing what he does for her. I just don't know if it is fair for me to get a dog when I work such long hours."

They chatted for a few more minutes before Gil looked at her and arched an eyebrow. "Tell me something I don't know about you," he said.

"I was supposed to take Introduction to Archeology instead of Introduction to Entomology," she said.

"I think I knew that," said Gil. "The teacher became ill and they had to cancel the class. My question to you would be: why was that your first choice?"

Sara laughed at the wounded look on his face. "Not everyone has your appreciation for the little creepy-crawlies, you know," she said. "Plus, I figured at least one of my classmates might try and look like Harrison Ford. A girl can dream."

"It does amaze me how all the pieces of my life have fallen together," he said. "If it hadn't been for that class getting cancelled, I never would have met you. I think my life would have been so empty without you. I can't imagine it…and I don't want to."

Sara blushed. He could be so generous with his praise sometimes. "Thank you," she said softly.

"So that doesn't count, since I already knew it," he said. "Tell me something else."

"Sheesh, you're a hard man to please," she said.

"That isn't what you were saying a few hours ago," he teased. Then he laughed as she blushed.

"I saw that I have some temporary reminders when I was taking my shower," she said.

"If you keep looking at me like that, you will be getting some more very soon," he said.

"Okay, I thought of something," she said. "I haven't told anyone else this, but I would like to go back to school and get my Doctorate. I just can't decide if I should stick with physics or cross over to forensic science."

"UNLV has a great program," he said. "What is stopping you from doing it? The lab pays for 50 of your tuition."

"I would probably have to drop down to 32 hours a week and our work is not predictable enough to be able to have classes and thesis-writing sessions," she said.

"You should submit a request to work in the lab for a couple of years. I'm pretty sure your supervisor would approve it, I know the guy and he seems pretty amenable to these things," Gil said seriously.

Sara laughed good-naturedly. "He can be a good guy. I just think I would miss him if I went back to school and didn't get to see him every night."

A/N: My house sold, but the house I was going to buy did not pass inspection. I am currently living with a neighbor and my life is just a tad chaotic right now. I promise not to abandon this story and my goal is to get it done before the season premiere, but the posting for future chapters may be sporadic. Feel free to add this story to your alerts.

I will do my absolute best to post once every 8-9 days.


	14. Chapter 15

**Title:** The Destination  
**Author:** Giwu  
**Rating:** M  
**Pairing:** GSR  
**Summary:** How did Sara and Grissom get back together?  
**Spoilers: **This is a continuation of my story, The Journey of 1000 Miles. You don't have to read that one prior to reading this one. Series spoilers...up to Season 7.  
**Author's Notes: **GSR is canon...some of my details may not be.  
**Disclaimer: **You-all do know I don't own them, right?

A/N: This is sort of a transitional chapter and I am tying up a few loose ends from the prequel to this story.

Chapter 14

Sara pushed open the heavy door to the foyer of the massive cathedral. It was quiet and cold. She shuddered at the memory of how long it had been since she had been in church and hoped a bolt of lighning wouldn't come from the sky and strike her down where she stood. Yet, some habits and rituals never leave the conscious or the subconscious and she dipped her hand in the holy water and crossed herself as she entered the sanctuary.

She walked quietly toward the front of the church, where an old man sat praying quietly with his rosary. He had had both knees replaced a few months ago and kneeling was no longer possible for him. She genuflected and slid in next to him and placed her hand softly on his shoulder.

"I always hate to interrupt you while you're talking to your boss," she said with a smile.

His booming laugh echoed through the church. "And I firmly believe God would excuse the interruption when it is from a woman as beautiful as you are. You do know if I was 40 years younger and you had been in my life at the time, I never would have made it through the first year of seminary," he said. " Opportunity knocks, but temptation kicks the door off the hinges!"

"Awww, Uncle Tommy, you say that to all the women who cross your path," she teased.

He started to protest, the smiled sheepishly. "Guilty as charged, I am. You know, the priests at the seminary never thought I would be able to keep the vow of celibacy since I was such an incredible flirt," he said. "I do believe I proved them wrong."

"Are you sorry you never rose higher in the church than a mere Cardinal?" she asked as he reached for her hand.

"You know, most days I wish I had remained a simple priest in a small parish. I miss the small collective family-type unit of a congregation. I was a good priest and I think I could have made some differences in individual lives. As it was, God's calling appeared to expose me to the politics of religion rather than the spreading of his word," he said.

They sat silently for a few moments before Thomas laughed again. "I miss the sincerity of human interactions the most," he said. "No one in my professional life would be so impertinent to refer to me as a 'mere Cardinal.' Always remember, Sara, family keeps us humble. When the rest of the world would have us believe we are just one step from being able to walk on water ourselves, family will remind you that at one point your diapers were just as nasty as the next person's."

It was Sara's laugh the echoed from the rafters now. "I am so glad you and Uncle Patrick were free for supper tonight. I'm sorry I haven't called more…"

Thomas waved his hand. "No harm done, young lady. You know both of us give people a sense of peace and completion in their lives. You, through science and the truth of evidence and me through faith and a belief that there is something for us all. Unfortunately, parts of our personal lives suffer for it. Truthfully, I can't imagine I would have made a good husband even if it had been allowed," he said.

As always, Uncle Tommy had a way of amazing her. "You know, it always surprised me that you never shoved religion down my throat," she said.

"You had been through so much in your young life. I think if I had been younger and more inexperienced I would have probably jumped on the bandwagon of telling you to 'put your trust in the Lord' and 'give yourself completely to him and all will be well' but at some point in my life I stopped trying to bring people to God and worked on bringing God to the individual instead," said Tommy.

After another pause of silence, Tommy gently put his arm around Sara and said, "Sweetheart, excuse the bluntness of an old man, but why are you here now?" he said.

For whatever reason, Sara started to cry. He graciously offered her his handkerchief and she told the story of the last few years of her life in Vegas. Describing Nick's ordeal brought on a fresh wave of tears. Tommy listened without interrupting and held her tighter when she discussed the attack at the mental hospital and her DUI.

"Now, sweet girl," he said when she took a breath. "There is something missing from all of this, something I can't put my finger on exactly, but you are omitting something important."

"Well…there is this man…" she started to say.

"AHA! And do I need to lecture him on the sanctity of sexual relations prior to marriage? Is he making a scarlet woman out of you?" he roared.

Sara was horrified and her face must have shown it. Tommy laughed until tears ran down his face. "I'm so sorry, Moonbeam, every once in a while I have to make certain I still have the ability to scare the crap out of people. I would have made a great teacher in a parochial school, don't you think?"

Sara sighed in relief and made a face at the name he called her. "You are so not allowed to call me that in public and you are not allowed to use that voice on me again. Have you forgotten I know how to conceal evidence of foul play?" she asked.

"Ah yes," he answered. "But doing harm to one of God's chosen ones? That is a direct ticket to the sauna…no stopovers at the holding station." He changed the topic. "And do we get to meet your young man tonight?"

"Yes, he is going to be there and so is my advisor from Berkeley," she said. "I was kind of hoping you wouldn't be wearing clothes tonight, I think it would have made him do a double-take."

"I'm an old man now and trust me trousers and a button-up shirt are much more comfortable than the robes and their trappings," he said.

"The first time I met you I thought you were a stripper because the whole family teased you about wearing clothes," she said.

"Yes, we probably warped you right from the start," he said. "Sara, your Uncle Patrick has done something…he did something for both of us and I don't want you to be angry at him," he said.

"This sounds serious," she answered.

"I don't really believe in coincidences, just the coercive hand of God," said Tommy.

"And now, you're being very cryptic. You and Gil will get along famously," she said.

Tommy looked at her gently. "I knew when my mother died that my father would only last a few months without her. They had been together their whole lives. Then only two years after my parents were gone, God decided it was time for your parents Marti and Andy to join him."

Sara nodded and felt the tears welling up again. Her godparents had been killed when an earthquake happened in the Philippines. They had been scheduled to be home on vacation before their next Peace Corps assignment, but their flight had been cancelled. She knew what Tommy meant by coincidences.

"Well, at the time both you and I told Patrick to donate our share of the inheritance however he saw fit," he said.

"I didn't want the money," said Sara. "I wanted them to be alive."

"I knew deep down, that my parents were very proud of me, but they didn't want my inheritance to go to the Catholic Church," he said. "Patrick invested our money and it has done well…very well. He said each year it was getting harder and harder to convince you and I to let him handle our taxes."

Sara laughed. "I don't think I have ever actually seen a form, he sends the blank ones to me to sign."

"Me, too" growled Tommy good-naturedly. "Anyway, if you do want to go back to get your PhD, the money is there for your education and for you to take a sabbatical and probably still make a decent down payment on a house."

Sara shook her head in wonderment. "I can't believe he did that. What are you going to do?"

"My share was done a bit differently since I lived in the same town and may have been a bit wiser than you as to what Patrick might do. He invested my money in some real estate…a building near campus that you might be familiar with," he said.

"He bought the building my apartment was in?" she squeaked.

Tommy smiled and nodded. "Patrick's divorce was an eye-opening experience for him. When the man who owned the shop downstairs retired, Patrick left the law firm, totally gutted the space and opened his own law practice. He lived in the apartment for a while."

"I wondered why he would walk away from the income at the time," mused Sara.

"I have decided to do something that is slightly out of the ordinary," said Tommy. "I have been retired for five years now and next week I am moving out my suite of rooms at the rectory and into the apartment. Patrick has been running around replacing all the appliances and getting it ready for me. He hasn't been able to bring himself to paint the place. He said it gave him great comfort to see the periodic table your friends painted and to know that during his moments of despair you had probably felt them there as well."

"I can't believe you own the building," Sara said.

"Most of the time, neither can I. I wanted you to know before we met him for supper," he said. Speaking of which, maybe we should go before he eats all the baklava in the restaurant. God might be able to forgive him if he did, but I don't think I could."


	15. Chapter 16

A/N: Just a slight warning...there is some politically incorrect humor in this chapter. No real offense is intended.

Chapter 15

In the end, Sara realized she had not properly prepared Grissom to meet her "family." She and Tommy arrived at the restaurant to find Gil waiting in the lobby. Sara made the introductions.

"It is very nice to meet you, your…" Grissom trailed off unexpectedly. "I'm afraid I don't know how to address you." Sweat popped out over his right eyebrow and Sara hid a smile. It had probably been a long time since he had met a date's…parents.

Tommy waved his hand dismissively. "I was never big into titles and much prefer to be called by my first name. Tom or Tommy will be just fine," he said. "But do you have a first name? Somehow, I don't think I can comfortably call you, 'Griss' as my niece does."

"Gil…my name is Gil," he said promptly. Sara wondered if he had been schooled by nuns and priests.

"Short for Gilbert?" asked Tommy.

"Yes, I'm not sure where it came from, I think it was the name of a distant relative," he said.

"Gilbert," said Tommy. "The name means 'bright pledge' and was introduced to Britain by the Normans. There is a Saint Gilbert, who was the founder of the order of the Gilbertines in the early 1130s. There is a rather gruesome story related to his Order of the Nun of Watton being forced to castrate her lover when he impregnated her and the other nuns stuck the offending body part down her throat…"

"Uncle Tommy, for you not go into some of the more colorful history of the Catholic Church?" Sara asked. Speaking of colors, Gil was looking a little green after that story. She turned to him. "He used to be a big hit at Halloween parties when I was in my late teens and would help at the parish parties. I think every kid that attended still wakes up in a cold sweat to this day."

Gil smiled weakly and wondered what he had done to deserve this. Sara reached for his hand and squeezed it reassuringly. "My Uncle Patrick is running about 15 minutes behind and told us to go ahead and get a table and feel free to start without him. That may not be a bad idea," she said.

They were seated at a table in the empty back room and Sara was grateful for the quiet rather than the hustle and bustle of the main dining area. They hadn't been seated for very long before a waiter brought them a bottle of ouzo.

"Auntie Sara, don't you recognize me?" Sara's head popped out of the menu and her mouth dropped open in shock.

"Gussie? Oh my gosh, I wouldn't have known you if we met on the street!" she exclaimed. She introduced Gil and Tommy to the 20-something year old man. Gil felt a twinge of jealousy when she stood up and he hugged her. He looked like a Greek sculpture of Apollo.

"I just can't get over it, I used to change your diapers," she teased. "The last time I saw you, you had a purple mohawk and you were begging your folks to get your eyebrows pierced."

"Ahhhh…those were the days," he grinned back at Sara. "After high school I went over to Greece for two years. When mom and dad retired they made Joanne and I co-owners. She manages the books and I am the head chef."

"That's great," said Sara. I think all three of us are looking forward to the melt-in-your-mouth baklava."

"You can order from the menu if you want, but mom and dad called in their requests yesterday. It is more family style tonight if that is okay with all of you," said Gus.

The three of them bobbed their heads in unison. Tommy patted his stomach and said, "I can't wait."

"The folks should be here any minute, but I can get you started with a few appetizers,' winked Gus.

The three of them nodded in unison and Sara excused herself to use the restroom. As she left Gil and Tommy were discussing his upcoming retirement and an idea popped into her head with the swiftness of a lightbulb brightening a darkened room.

When she returned to the private room, things were not as calm as when she had left. Her Uncle Patrick had joined them and Gil was choking and gasping for air. Tommy sympathetically rubbed his back as he coughed. Tears were running down his face in copious amounts and his face had a bright, unnatural tinge to it.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," she said with apparent exasperation. Tommy didn't flinch at the profanity and she knew he had heard much worse. "What exactly did the two of you do to him in the five minutes I was gone?"

Gil weakly wheezed a few more times before he was able to catch his breath and speak, "It's all right, Sara, I just was caught off-guard. You may have neglected to tell me about the sibling rivalry between the two of them."

Patrick was unabashed as he stood up to give her a hug. He held her tightly and stepped back to look at her. "You don't get home often enough," he said gruffly.

She rolled her eyes and repeated, "So, what did the two of you do to him?" she asked.

The twinkle in Patrick's eyes was unmistakable. "So I arrive and meet your gentlemen friend only to find that my brother doesn't have the social graces to share a drink with him," he said.

"I really fear for your immortal soul," said Tommy dramatically.

"So, being the good host, I pour the ouzo. But my dear brother declines, saying that he doesn't drink. I mean whoever heard of such a thing? I looked at him and said, 'An Irish Catholic priest who doesn't drink? I suppose next you're going to tell me you don't think the altar boys look hot in their robes.' Unfortunately, Gil had just taken a swallow of ouzo and I believe it got…stuck in his throat," finished Patrick.

"It really was impressive to see it spray across the room, though it was a waste of good ouzo," said Tommy.

"Both of you stop it, this INSTANT," Sara yelled the last word. "You are not allowed to scare him away. Of course I don't come home more often. I now remember distinctly why I have never introduced either of you to anyone I have ever dated."

They grinned at her and Patrick had the audacity to ruffle her hair like she was still a child. Gil could see that the barbs were all meant in fun and he had realized too late that Patrick took great pleasure in ruffling his older brother. He reached for Sara's hand and gave it a squeeze. "It is going to take a lot more than that to scare me off. Remember when you met my mother all those years ago? Before she left she was very specific with the fact she wanted you to have her grandchildren," he said with a smile which widened considerably as Sara blushed.

"I can't help but wonder how many rapists and murderers you have unleashed upon society in your many years of criminal defense, Paddy," said Tommy innocently.

"You have got to be kidding me!" Patrick exclaimed. "60 percent of my practice is pro bono because of all the 'dear, little, lost, lambs' you send me every week. One of these days I am going to stop taking your phone calls and have my secretary kick you to the curb," he said.

"Oh, that is a horribly empty threat," replied Tommy cheerfully. "Gina is more afraid of my boss than she is of you,"

Sara was rapidly realizing that she was now outnumbered and would be spending the night being tortured by these three men. She was extremely relieved when Edward and Myra Sayers showed up to their table to provide a buffer to the verbal jousting. They had been like a second family to her when she had been in school. Only this adopted family was gregarious and loving and she knew they would be a calming influence to the ribald humor of Patrick and Tommy.

The ouzo was passed freely for the next few hours and when it was time to leave Sara, Grissom and Patrick were all pretty wobbly. Edward and Myra were staying to help at the restaurant to help for a few hours. That left the four of them in the parking lot. Patrick was in no shape to drive.

"All right, little brother, a night at the rectory will do you a world of good," said Tommy affectionately. "Give up the keys and I won't have to hurt you."

Sara and Grissom decided to walk the few blocks back to their hotel. There was a slight chill in the air and Sara knew it would be a good time for her to clear her head. Hugs and handshakes were exchanged. She and Grissom watched as Tommy squealed the tires of Patrick's Mustang as he drove out of the parking lot.

They walked (more accurately, weaved) quietly for a block before Sara said, "Could I just apologize profusely one time rather than spend the next six months apologizing?"

Gil laughed and took her hand in his. "I am an only child, Sara. I can't begin to tell you how much fun I had tonight. Patrick obviously keeps Tommy grounded and I saw the genuine affection when Tommy helped him into the car and buckled his seatbelt for him," he said. "I'm not someone who looks at life and wonders, 'what if' very often, but it did make me wish for a couple of minutes to know what it would be like if I had a brother."

Sara sighed in relief. "I am still very sorry for not warning you like I should have," she said.

Gil stopped in mid-stride and pulled her into his arms. His tongue plundered her mouth and he aggressively bit her bottom lip. She moaned when his hands slid down to her ass and he pulled her close to him. She could feel his erection growing against her stomach.

"You know, my dear, I think I know exactly how you can make it up to me," he said.

A/N: I have four more topics I want to write about before this story is completed. My goal is still to have this finished BEFORE the Season 8 opener, so updates should be coming faster than they have. Thanks to all who have been patient with me!


	16. Chapter 17

Chapter 16

Gil was a bit foggy when he woke up the next morning. _Ouzo and Olympic style sex will do that to you, old man,'_ he thought to himself. He stretched languidly and reached for Sara, only to find her side of the bed empty and cold. A flash of irritation passed through his mind and he realized how quickly he had become accustomed to sleeping with her. They were leaving to return to Vegas in just a couple of days and they had yet to discuss what their future together looked like. He bit back the rising panic when it crossed his mind that Sara may not want a future together.

A quick trip to the bathroom eased his mind as to her whereabouts. A note was strategically placed over the toilet at his eye level.

Griss-

I hope you don't mind, but I volunteered us for something this afternoon. I had to go get some supplies. Be back by 1030 AM.

Sara

He looked at his watch, it was 945 AM now. He made a call to room service and hopped in the shower. He grimaced when his cock began to harden. As he lathered himself, he wished Sara was here to do it. He shook his head to clear his mind of those thoughts as his cock took on a life of its own. A flick of his wrist left him groaning audibly and in need of more than his hand. He gave himself a final pat and rinsed off grumbling. As he was toweling off he heard the knock at the door that signaled room service had arrived.

He was midway through eating when Sara returned with a twinkle in her eye. She playfully reached for the rest of his bagel and he teasingly slapped her hand before tearing it into small pieces and slowly feeding it to her.

"I borrowed your car, I hope you don't mind that I went through your pockets to get your keys," she said.

"As long as you didn't leave the radio on a station Greg Sanders would have picked, I think all will be well," he said, smiling. "What are we doing this afternoon?"

"It is sort of a favor to Uncle Patrick and Tommy," she said. "I got the idea last night and I hope you don't mind a little physical work,"

Gil frowned. "I'm not the handiest person to have around if we are doing repairs of some kind," he said.

"No, no it isn't anything like that," she replied. "I just thought it was something we could do for them…and it is a bit of a blast from the past."

"Why the mystery, Miss Sidle?" he teased.

"I just want to keep you on your toes," she teased back. "I wouldn't want you to get bored with me."

He swept her into a hug and kissed her hotly. "As I recall, and speaking of toes, I do believe I made yours curl last night," he said with a warm smile.

Sara shivered in memory and swatted him, "Enough of that. Finish your breakfast, so we can get started."

He traced her breasts through her blouse and tweaked her nipples as they hardened. "if we are getting started, then breakfast is over right now," he said.

"That is not what I meant," she said pushing him away.

He groaned audibly. "I have been refused and denied already. Before you know it, I will be lamenting with other henpecked men about my lack of…"

Sara rolled her eyes. "Are you always this dramatic?" she asked.

He reached for his jacket. "Just you wait until later," he said solemnly. "I'll show you how dramatic I can be."

CSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSIGSRGSRGSRGSRGSRGSR

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," he said. Grissom tilted his head in an attempt to see where they were going, but the towel Sara had used effectively blinded him. "Someone will think you are kidnapping me…or using me as your sex slave…hey…wait…are you…."

"Geez, you are in a mood today," she said from the driver's seat. "What started all this?"

"I woke up alone and wanted you," he said simply.

Sara reached over and squeezed his hand. "It is just a quick trip and then you won't have to wear the blindfold, anymore," she said.

"Okay, but just so you know, for future reference, I prefer to be the one who is tying the blindfold, rather than wearing it. I will have my revenge," he said softly, but with a tone of determination.

Sara had the good sense to shiver.

It was easier said than done to navigate Grissom up the flight of stairs. Sara felt a sense of accomplishment that they arrived in front of the apartment door and he hadn't fallen down once. Of course, she was sure some of his more well-placed gropes were intentional and she was enjoying this playful side of him.

She had really only had a couple hours of sleep and had been wide awake at 200 AM. She had eased herself out of bed and quietly left the room. A quick stop at a 24-hour supermarket and she was loaded with all the cleaning supplies she could think of and a few groceries.

At 700 AM Patrick had shown up looking bedraggled and weary. He entered the apartment with a look of suspicion and was relieved to find Sara there. He put a finger to his lips and shuffled around the kitchen finding coffee and a bottle of aspirin. They sat on the couch in silence until Patrick stood to refill his cup.

"You would not believe what my dear brother did to me this morning," he said.

"Early morning mass?" she queried.

"Oh, it couldn't just be early morning mass with a few faithful souls," Patrick said grimly. "He took me across town to where all the seminarians are and we had to have Mass with a full choir. I swear I could feel the blood pounding in my head during a couple of the hymns."

She petted his shoulder sympathetically, but could not hide a smile. When he asked what she was doing there, she sketched her plan for the day. Patrick nodded and made a phone call to cancel his appointments for the day. Something in Sara's eyes must have showed a level of disappointment.

"Ah, sweet Sara, it is written all over your face, I have no doubt you have something romantic planned. Don't worry, I will disappear for a few hours when I go to borrow the truck to pick up the furniture," he said. "Does that make your plans a little more feasible?"

She nodded and smiled happily.

Now she had Grissom situated in the middle of the studio apartment. She had taken down the curtains and thrown them in the washer. Sunlight streamed in through the open windows and reflected off the newly cleaned and dusted surfaces. She carefully removed the blindfold.

Gil held his hand up to shield his eyes from the sudden bright light. After they adjusted, the look of wonderment on his face was one that she would remember for the rest of her life.

"My God, Sara this is your….this is where we…I can't believe...How did you…" Gil said, failing to finish any of his sentences.

Sara quickly explained the history of the apartment. Then she said, "Neither Tommy or Patrick had the heart to cover up the periodic table after all these years, even though it has faded. So, I thought maybe we could do a thorough paint job and make this Tommy's place instead of 'my old apartment' for him."

The hug Grissom gave her was filled with genuine warmth. "That is a spectacular idea," he said. "I'm not surprised you thought of it."

"Patrick went to get the paint and I made a trip to an art store this morning. I have an idea for the wall with the mural on it, I just don't know if I can pull it off or not." She said. She tossed Grissom a roll of masking tape and they began to cover the windows and molding.


	17. Chapter 18

A/N: This is the longest chapter I have ever written. There were several of you who wanted this chapter, but I must give Hammie a special nod here since she was PMing and asking for this clear back at Chapter One!

Chapter 17

Sara and Gil had just finished taping and covering the furniture when they heard a loud thump followed by a string of profanity.

"Hey! A little help here would be nice, you know," hollered Patrick from the stairs.

"The taskmaster returns," said Sara as she and Gil went to help him carry in the cans of paint.

"There's more stuff in the car," he said.

Sara went outside and grabbed the bags of paintbrushes and drop cloths. She unloaded the cooler of sodas from Gil's Jeep. Three trips later everything was piled by the door. By the time she was back in the apartment Gil and Patrick were mixing the paint and talking comfortably.

"I am glad we didn't send you screaming in terror into the night last night," said Patrick to Gil.

"I really am made of some pretty strong stuff," said Gil, smiling at the other man. "You should have been there the night Sara met my mother. It was in the same restaurant and it was a bit of a fiasco. I am starting to that restaurant is jinxed when it comes to first-time meetings."

"How did you and Sara meet?" asked Patrick.

It was an innocent and predictable question, yet Sara blushed and Gil's eyes twinkled as he recounted their meeting when he was a visiting professor and Sara had been forced to take his class as a requirement. Shortly after Gil explained his ability to lip read and Sara's initial muttered remarks Patrick had laughed hard enough to bring tears to eyes. He wiped his face and said, "It sounds like you two were meant to be together." Sara rolled her eyes and grabbed a pair of the paper coveralls and went to change.

They were ready to start painting and Sara was staring at the expanse of canvas she had bought earlier. She knew what she wanted to do, but her lack of artistic ability was slightly less than Martha Stewarts's. She reached for a brush when another unfamiliar voice said, "Drop the paintbrush and nobody gets hurt." Sara turned and there was a woman in her early 30's standing in the doorway. Patrick almost fell off the ladder when he saw her.

"Oh my Ggggg…od, what are YOU doing here?" he asked. He was visibly flustered as he walked over to the woman.

"When you called and told me why I had to cancel your appointments and take the day off, I knew a lawyer and two science geeks could not handle this project by themselves," she said.

"Hey, wait a minute," said Gil climbing down from his ladder. "I will have you know I made money every summer during high school painting houses."

The woman stepped into the room and Patrick tried to make introductions. "This is…ah, well, she is…."

"I'm Gina, and I am his administrative assistant," she said.

Sara was pretty sure there was something left unsaid and she was right. Having to introduce herself seemed to have brought Patrick back to his senses and his manners returned. He kissed her softly on the cheek and said to Gil and Sara, "She is a whole lot more to me than that,"

She beamed at him and gently took the paintbrush from Sara's hand. "Why don't you let me take care of the canvas and maybe you could start in the bathroom? I have an idea you might like."

"I don't see why you would think you could do a better job at painting than Sara, as I recall, your degree is in English?" teased Patrick.

"I minored in Modern Art," Gina said smoothly and confidently.

"Oh, I have no problem, I yield my brush to the only person with the power to make my Uncle stutter," said Sara.

It was amazing how fast the work went with four of them painting. Two hours later they took a break and ate the pizza Gina had ordered. Sara learned Gina was from Chicago and moved to San Francisco to get away from the cold winters.

"I think my thought process was slightly flawed since it appears to rain here at least 360 days a year," she said. "Next month, Patrick and I are going to take two weeks and go back there. This will be the first time he has met my family."

"I suppose it would be a bad thing if I tried to do my Tony Soprano imitation?" asked Patrick.

Gina sighed. "A good Italian girl bringing home an Irish boy, my Nana is never going to forgive me," she said.

Another two hours later the four of them lounged on the couch and studied the apartment. Where there had been red, yellow and orange were now varying degrees of blues. Originally, Sara had thought her apartment reminded her of a sunrise when she lived there during college, now it resembled the ocean. She thought she would have time tomorrow to pick up CD with waves and seagulls for background noise…maybe a couple of candles.

The accent colors were grey and purple and the result was just as impressive as it had been before. The canvas that now covered the periodic table was not a professional piece, but Sara could make out a lighthouse and what appeared to be waves crashing against the shore with dolphins (or whales) in the background. Gina had definitely done a much better job than she could have ever hoped to.

"We forgot to sign our work," said Patrick.

"Mmmm," Gina groaned. She was lying with her head on Patrick's chest. "I think I have an answer for that. Gil, could I see your right hand, please?"

Gil held out his hand and was rewarded by Gina picking up a nearby paint roller and in one smooth motion splattering it over his palm. He jumped in surprise and Gina smiled.

"What better way for two CSIs and a defense lawyer to sign their work than with a palm print?" she asked smiling.

Gil couldn't help smiling back and she helped him press his palm into the right corner of the canvas. Patrick and Sara's prints followed, each of them in a different color.

"I do believe turnabout is only fair," said Gil as he held a roller in his hand. Gina laughed and held out her hand for him to plop enough paint for her to leave her mark.

Patrick swatted Gina good-naturedly on her backside. "If you are finished flirting with the bug guy, it's time for us to get the truck," he said.

"I was so not flirting with him," Gina said washing her hands. Gil and Sara heard them mock arguing all the way down the stairs as they left the apartment with a wave.

"They are good for each other," said Gil.

"Yes, they are. That is the happiest I have seen Patrick in all the years I have known him," said Sara. "He was always the serious one of the family."

She stood and closed the door, sliding the safety chain into place. "Hey, 'bug guy' come here," she whispered.

"That's 'Doctor bug guy,' to you," said Gil as he slowly walked over to her.

She reached up to caress his cheek and leaned in to softly kiss him. Soft kisses quickly became hungry kisses and soon he was holding her tightly against his body.

"Maybe we shouldn't start something we can't finish," Gil said through gritted teeth.

Sara's eyes were fogged with desire as she shook her head. "They won't be back for at least two hours, they don't pick up the furniture until 700 PM.

The words were barely out of her mouth before Gil had reached up, putting one hand on either side of the collar of the coveralls. With a quick motion he tore the coveralls into shreds of paper.

"I have always had this fantasy of tearing the clothes from your body," he said. His voice had a quiet, but dangerous edge to it. "At one point when you were painting, the sunlight hit you just-so and I could tell that you had removed your bra and were only wearing a t-shirt and panties underneath the coveralls. I figured you had done that just to tease me and I have been sporting half an erection all afternoon."

Sara grinned at him and he touched her lips with one finger. "Now it is my turn to tease," he said. He picked her up and carried her behind the screen where the bed was. Not so gently, he tossed her onto the bed.

"Strip," he said in a firm voice.

Sara felt the blood rush to her face and she fought back a feeling of panic. When she looked at Gil he had a look of intensity she had never seen before. Her hands shook as she removed her t-shirt and slid her panties down her legs.

"Lie down on your back and raise your hands over your head," he said.

She did so and closed her eyes. A brief rustle and he was on top of her, naked and hard. He kissed her throat as she swallowed hard.

"Sweetheart, do you trust me enough to know that I would never intentionally hurt you," he asked tenderly.

Her voice quavered and a tear ran down her cheek. "I thought I did," she said. She reached to wipe away the other tears that were forming and he took her hands in one of his.

"Keep your hands over your head," he said.

She felt his fingers slide over her face and remove the trails of moisture. "I am going to tease you the way you have teased me this afternoon. Hopefully, you can feel the same edge of insanity that I have been coping with. Nothing that I am going to do is meant to hurt you, just to test your limits," he said.

His words soothed her and she nodded. He moved his hand gently over her eyes and closed her eyelids. She felt him kissing her ear. His beard tickled he neck and cheek. He actions were maddeningly slow as he shifted and moved down her body to her breasts. He took one nipple into his mouth and gently tweaked the other with his hand. She arched when he bit down and squeezed at the same time. He chuckled at her reaction.

"I don't think I could ever share you with another man, Sara, but I can't help but wonder how you would react if there was a mouth on each breast," he said. She started to speak and he placed his hand over her mouth. "No talking."

"I would love to feel you squirm while both your nipples were being licked and sucked. I bet if I slid my finger inside of you right now you would be soaked and ready for me," he said. She shivered as one finger traveled from her mouth, down her torso around her belly button and straight through her fine curls. Without any hesitation, he inserted it quickly inside her. "Oh, yes, you are wet. The idea of two men excites you." He gave his finger a little crook and moved it across her g-spot.

Sara's breathing hitched and a whine escaped her throat when he removed his finger. He traced her lips and began to circle her clit with feather-like caresses. She arched again, trying to feel more pressure against the sensitive nub. When he moved his hand she groaned.

"It is frustrating, isn't it? To be this aroused and yet not have the stimulation you want. Your body aches for it and your mind can only concentrate on wondering if the next touch will give you what you crave, if it will help you on your way to orgasm or merely keeping you circling in arousal," he said. His mouth was next to her ear and his monologue was said ever so softly, yet each word penetrated her like he was yelling them. His hands continued to move around her body but whenever they would wander close to her nipples or clit he would barely touch them.

Next he began to lick her ribcage. Each rib was traced with his tongue and he paused to continue his discussion. "I love the way your body tastes. It is salty from the sweat of painting yet there is a sweetness that I can't believe I went without this long." She could feel his breath on her clit and lips, yet all he continued to do was to run his finger through her curls and around her pussy. His tongue lightly tasted her hip and the inside of her thigh. He stopped and blew some air on her swollen nub. It was Sara's undoing.

"Ppppp-lease, Gil," she gasped. "No more teasing, please touch me, please let me come." She opened her eyes to see him staring at her thoughtfully. In one swift motion he ducked his head to suck her clit into his mouth and pushed two fingers into her heat.

She moaned incoherently as her orgasm surged through her body. It washed over her like warm, liquid heat and he continued to suck her clit as she peaked and came down from the high. Even before she was finished she was tugging blindly at his shoulders. He easily slid his cock into her in one swift stroke and she dug her fingernails into his ass. He shuddered at the slight pain. "I thought I told you to keep your hands over your head," he panted as he began to pick up the tempo and plunge into her harder and faster.

"Next time, you should borrow Brass's handcuffs," she said.

"Oh, God, don't tempt me," he groaned. "That is a beautiful vision I have in my head now. You spread out on my bed…I'm so close, now."

"Come for me, Gil," she said. "Let me feel you come inside me."

His breathing became erratic and with one last push he spilled himself inside her. She felt herself go over the edge one last time as he lay down on top of her. Both of them trembled and she wrapped her arms around him and stroked his sweaty shoulders.

When both of them caught their breath, she said, "There is time for both of us to take a quick shower, if you want."

"I can't believe we did this here," he said. "Should we flip the mattress over, or buy new sheets, or something?"

Sara laughed out loud at his dawning discomfort. "I bought new sheets and a quilt already, they should be just about finished drying," she said kindly. "This bed is headed for the Salvation Army tomorrow."

Gil shook his head in exaggerated disbelief. "Miss Sidle, I do believe you just seduced me."

Additional A/N: I know I have not written the obligatory conversation between Gil and Sara regarding safe sex and/or pregnancy. For the sake of responsibility, let's assume that they had it out of earshot and that I am not planning to make Sara pregnant right now.


	18. Chapter 19

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who has had reviewed, posted and PMd. I am very glad so many of you have enjoyed the sequel to The Journey of 1000 Miles. I am proud that this story was nominated as a WIP for the 2007 Fanfic awards. I appreciate that so many of you hung in there with me this summer and my horribly inconsistent posting.

My next story is GSR, M rated, AU and titled, "A Prelude to Their Opus." It is a not a sequel to this and I probably won't begin posting it for a couple of weeks. Because of subject matter, I may not be able to post all of it here, it may need to be moved to AFF and/or the LJ community csifiction.

So, my sincere thanks once again.

Is it Thursday yet?

Chapter 18

"_All good things_…" mused Gil to himself when he awoke early on the day they were driving back to Vegas. He silently slid from the warm bed and padded softly to the bathroom.

He carefully trimmed his beard and performed his 'morning' routine. The time spent in San Francisco had probably held the most life-altering moments for him since his childhood.

The look on Tommy's face when he had seen the studio apartment had been worth the trouble of picking paint from his beard in the days following their renovation work. Tommy had hugged them all and had wiped several tears from his face. He had embraced Gina for so long that Patrick had finally said, "Brother, that is my woman you're groping."

Gina's response, "Most of the time I like him better than I like you," was muffled by Tommy's shoulder. She patted Tommy's shoulder and he reluctantly released her.

"I'm not too worried," said Patrick. "What woman has use for a 67-year-virgin?"

The tables were smoothly turned when Tommy replied, "Well, at least you got my age right…"

It had been a long time since Gil had been around a family. It had been too easy to let his colleagues become a family of sorts and he found himself thinking how much he would miss having contact with people outside of work. There were carefully defined parameters of behavior with Nick, Warrick and even Greg, who pushed the envelope. Brass and Catherine were friends, but so much of the time they spent together outside of work was spent talking about work.

Sara and he had had a couple more meals with Edward and Myra Sayers and all four of them had even done the ultimate tourist activity and gone to Alcatraz together. Edward spent a lot of energy trying to convince Gil to get back into teaching.

"You were an amazing teacher," he said. "I know the pay isn't as good, but think of the rewards you get in return. Instead of seeing people on the worst day of their lives, you have the opportunity to teach some of the finest minds of this generation."

It was one of the many thoughts rolling around in his mind right now. He realized, because of Sara, he now had opportunities and options that he had never bother to explore before now. He went into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. He gently shook Sara's shoulder.

"Honey? It's time to wake up, now." We have to be at the restaurant ay 900 AM to pick up Myra's care package for us," he said softly.

Sara gave an exaggerated groan. "I told her she didn't have to do that, we really were capable of getting food on the road," she said. She rolled onto her back and reached for his hand. "This has been an amazing trip. Part of me doesn't want to leave."

"I know just how you feel," said Gil.

Nonetheless, a few hours later San Francisco was miles behind them. They both had been very quiet for this first leg of the trip, but it was comfortable. Oldies music played on the radio and at different times they snag along to favorite lyrics. Neither of them could hold a tune well, but some things were easy to overlook.

For no apparent reason, Gil reached over and turned off the radio. "Sara, there is something important I need to ask you," he said.

"Okay," she replied cautiously.

"I was wondering how attached to Las Vegas you were," he said. While it may have sounded like a statement, there was a question in there.

Sara was startled, but answered without hesitation. "Vegas has been my home of choice, only because you were there. I think this trip has just reinforced that idea."

"But you're not ready to live together?" Gil asked, recalling one of their conversations from earlier in the week.

"I don't want you to think I'm rejecting you," she said. Her voice wavered and he glanced over to see tears forming in her eyes. "I have waited so long for you, maybe my whole life. I want to take this slow. I want to see how we balance our professional and personal relationship. I just think it will be better if in the beginning, we have our own corners to escape to at times."

"You're probably right," said Gil. "I just feel like I have wasted enough of our time." He was disappointed, but knew that she was the voice of reason.

"So, why are you asking me about Vegas?" she queried.

He took her hand in his. "When you are ready to live together, I wouldn't mind living in San Francisco," he said.

Her smile gave him a warm feeling. "Neither would I, she said as she squeezed his hand.

CSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSI

They stopped at "their" rest stop. Sara knew they would. Grissom was practically humming as they went into their separate bathrooms. When she left the ladies' room, she could see him at the far end of the parking lot. He appeared to be looking for something. As Sara started to walk over to him, she saw him enter the woods. A couple of minutes later she located a path and began to walk through the small cluster of trees.

When she found him, he was in front of a tree carving something. He must have had the knife in his pocket since they last stopped for gas. When he finished at stepped away from his handiwork, Sara uttered a mock gasp. "Gil, for Pete's sake, I'm a member of Greenpeace," she said.

"And I promise, every year for the rest of our lives we will plant two tress on Arbor Day," he said soothingly. "I don't know what came over me." His voice changed and he thumped his chest twice, "_Mogh. Mark Territory."_

She looked at the neatly carved letters. GG + SS

He stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "You know all my life, I have moved from one goal to the next goal immediately after achieving the results I wanted. I think I have finally realized it's not the destination that matters, it's the journey. And if that journey takes a little bit longer...than I would like, then so be it," he said.

It was a poignant moment and Sara felt he throat begin to hurt and she brushed her hand over her eyes. He took her hand and they walked out of the grove of trees together. As she was climbing into the car she said, "Do you even know when Arbor Day is?"

"Contrary to popular belief, Arbor Day is not celebrated on the same day in all 50 states. Additionally, in Nevada, the Southern part of the state celebrates on February 28; the Northern part on April 23. The First Arbor day took place in 1872….."

"Oh, my God, what was I thinking," interrupted Sara. "Seriously, you need to apply to be on Jeopardy or something."

All too soon, the lights of Vegas were visible. He would be leaving her at her apartment soon. She tried to tell herself that it wasn't an ending, but the start of something new. She knew she was afraid of what the next night would bring. Would he be emotionally distant Grissom again? What if this was all the time they really had?

Logically, she knew he couldn't read her mind. But he cleared his throat a couple of times. _"Why was he so nervous_?" she wondered.

"Sara, there is something I've done and I have been debating on how to tell you. Since it involves you, I think you should have a say in what happens," he said.

Her heart dropped with a thud. She wasn't sure when it became difficult to breathe. "What have you done?" she asked with a calmness she didn't feel.

"Tomorrow morning I…or we, if you want, have an appointment with the Sheriff," he said.

"I don't understand what this has to do with me," she replied.

"I am too old to spend my life sneaking around and hiding who I am from the world. Tomorrow I am going to tell the Sheriff that I am in a relationship with you. I am going to tell him that it is not an option for either of us to change shifts, but we need to know what protocols he would like to put in place," he said. "I am sure he will prefer that we keep it to ourselves and not advise the rest of the team and knowing how little regard he has for Ecklie, the information will probably go no further than his office and a few carefully worded documents.

"Are you sure this is what you want to do?" she asked. "What if he won't accept your terms?"

"Oh, I am sure he won't call my bluff when I tell him we have just spent ten days in San Francisco and the lab there is prepared to double our salaries and our benefits," he said grimly.

"But we never talked to anybody about getting a job…." she trailed off when it dawned on her. "Oh….where did this devious side come from?"

"Madame," he said solemnly. "I am nothing if not a complete package."

Epilogue…….May 2007

_No. No. NO!_

_Not Sara._

_This crazy woman has kidnapped Sara._

_Please, God, no._

_I need to wake up; if I wake up this will all go away._

_She is moving into my place next week._

_We're shopping for wallpaper tomorrow._

_We have a life together. We have a dog together._

_What do I tell Patrick and Tommy?_

_She is accepted into the PhD program at Berkeley for Fall 2008._

_I am going to teach four classes._

_No. This can't be happening. _

He took a deep breath and yet his lungs still felt like they were on fire.

"Jim, I need to talk to her," he said.


End file.
